Between two things
by avearia
Summary: Stealers have run amok in X middle school's halls. After another failed attempt to catch whoever is behind this, Fillmore makes a disturbing decision... Rated for minor swear words. ch 18 up.
1. When the going gets tough

My first Fillmore fanfiction. be nice.

It's short and sweet, but the other chapters may be longer. I'm sorry if I have some grammer mistakes, I must have missed them. Next chapter should be up quick, it took me forever to form this idea in my head and i'm not letting this go off somewhere. (I had to find an interesting case. in the tv show, they have all these strange cases... chalk boosting, selling things that look like quarters, counterfiting baseball cards? yeah right. never heard of it.) anyway, it's really going somewhere, or so my dad says, so plz read and review! don't chicken out.

_NOTE: i don't own fillmore! or any other disney shows. i hope. because if i did, really, it would totally freak me out and make me wonder if i hit my head or something. anyway..._

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**When the going gets tough**

"I really don't see the point of this…" Ingrid's voice came through the walkie-talkie. It had a sarcastic ring to it. "Who would want to steal a stuffed animal collection?"

"Listen Ingrid…" a voice came through the walkie-talkie.

"If we got a lead, we gotta lead." Said another.

"Plus, if you sold those in the city, they'd be worth a ton of money, so it's reasonable enough to follow up on. Don't flip out, Ingrid."

"Fine, Fillmore. Whatever." She replied to the last voice. "I just wish that something would happen already. It's been an hour and a half at this convention. Couldn't the person try to steal the collection of 'rare and valuable stamps' right across from the toy collection, the one that I'm staring at right now?" she stopped. "This is pointless."

An African-American boy peered at his partner across the room, nervous. Nothing had happened yet, true, but something might. The way they had gotten an anonymous call had been odd, and there _had _been a ton of jokes about someone stealing those stuffed toys, but if they had a call, they had to follow it. Maybe it was just a paranoid kid that wanted to make sure that all his things were alright, not going to be 'stolen' from him in some rash attempt from a fellow student. In Cornelius's eyes, though, something was wrong.

It had been that gut feeling that brought the safety patrol to guard the 'collection convention' that entire ninety minutes. Whenever he had a gut feeling, the rest always followed it… he had never been wrong. His gut feelings led to solve several cases, when some had decided to give up and move on. No one doubted him when he said something was wrong, except maybe Vallejo, and then sometimes he didn't even mean it, trying to please Folsom.

Looking around, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, and after looking at it sadly, shoved it back into his pocket hastily. His senses were all alert, but he couldn't see anything wrong.

Another sweep around the gym found nothing. He glanced back to his partner. Sometimes he wondered where he'd be without her… wait. He glanced up to the ceiling to see a banner hung on a balcony. Behind it there was a figure standing in the shadows, looking down.

Looking at Ingrid.

"Hey Ingrid?" the boy spoke into the walkie-talkie.

"Yeah Fillmore?" she answered.

Hesitantly, he said "Come over here a second."

Confused, she stalled, then moved towards the doorway.

She had taken only a few steps when there was a loud crash as several crates fell through the tiled ceiling where she had been standing only a few seconds before. Another round came through, knocking Ingrid over as the figure in the shadows dropped down from above and snatched the case of toys out from the showcase. It made towards the door, only stopping to grab the stamps that Ingrid had mentioned earlier.

"GO!" yelled Fillmore, and the safety patrollers burst into action. Joseph Anza jumped out from his post by the CD collections, while Karen Tehama pulled out of her hideout behind the victim's stall. Vallejo and Danny O'Farrell guarded the doors.

The person (Wearing a hood) looked at the fix he was in and made a break for it. Jumping over O'Farrell, he made his getaway.

In the hallway there were several innocent bystanders that watched the hooded figure pull out of the gym, followed by several safety patrollers (Which was quite odd. Have you ever seen that?). The perpetrator made his way down the hallway at a run with the cases, one tucked under each arm, pushing people over, knocking things down, and generally throwing things in the way of his pursuers. The safety patrollers following had a tough time keeping up, having to dodge everything in their path. Turning the corner of a hallway, they found no one; the hooded child had made away with his prize.

When Fillmore saw this, he turned back to the gym, crouching over his fallen partner. "You ok?" he asked the black haired girl, worried.

"I'm tired, covered in boxes, annoyed, relieved that I didn't have my head pounded permanently into my chest, and irritated to know that someone actually stole toys for profit. Am I ok? Just usual I guess." She retorted, sitting up and massaging her back where a box had landed. "Didja catch him? I've got a word or two to say to him…" she frowned.

"No." Fillmore said, offering his partner a hand. "He got away."

"Aren't very happy about that, are you?" she asked him, taking the offered hand and standing up.

"Well, not really."

* * *

Ingrid and Fillmore both went back to headquarters. The safety patrol had searched everywhere, finding no clues. Fillmore had suggested they look on the balcony where the robber had come, but they still hadn't unearthed anything.

Ignoring the feeling in his stomach, he turned to Ingrid. "Do you want to go get something to eat? There's someone in the cafeteria that's selling ice cream, one of my friends told me that it's really good."

The green eyed girl nodded and headed off. They arrived at the cafeteria, and Ingrid ordered for both of them while Fillmore pulled out his wallet to pay for it. Sitting there, eating the ice cream, they watched the world go by.

"Hey Fillmore!"

The two turned at the voice.

A kid was standing by the ice cream stall, walking over. Waving, he said again, "Fillmore!"

Fillmore twisted in his chair to face the kid. He had short brown hair, spiked on top and green eyes. "I'm sorry, but do I know you?"

The kid finally reached him and shook his head no. "No, you don't, not really. But I've seen you around enough, and just wanted to say hi. My name's Jason."

The two safety patrollers looked at each other. "And you picked today to say hello… why?" Fillmore asked his greeter.

"Oh, I just wanted to tell you that you'll be getting a surprise today. He told me to tell you to see if you'd figure it out, but he won't be here till later."

"Who's he?" Fillmore asked.

"That's the secret." Jason laughed. "Have a good day!" he took off towards the classrooms.

They watched him go.

"o… k… that was… interesting." Ingrid said to no one in particular.

"Yeah, but I could use a surprise. I mean, if it's a good surprise. The theft today made me kind of edgy." He admitted.

"Man this is weird," Ingrid commented. "We've had way more things stolen this past two weeks than ever… or since I've been here, anyway." Ingrid looked at her partner. "Has anything happened like this before? So many crimes in a row…"

"Only once, and I was working for the person behind it, so that's how I know." Fillmore replied, shaking his head. "Man, we've been busy! I need some coco or something…"

Ingrid shrugged her shoulders. "first several bikes and scooters, then electronics and printers from the computer lab, trays from the cafeteria, balls from the gym of all types, paint supplies from the art club's personal stash, a complete midnight raid of the school store, smoits, soda from the school's machines, textbooks from storage, janitor office robbery, and now the collections of toys and stamps at the convention? Folsom's gonna have our heads!" she joked.

"Well, just leave it in your desk when we get called over… that way she won't be able to bite it off!" he said.

"Yeah, well, the only one able to do that is O'Farrell. I wonder where he leaves his head sometimes…" she snickered, reaching her desk and sitting down.

"Don't be so hard on poor Danny. Did you see the way he got whacked? I doubt he will be able to defend himself very-" he looked at his desk and frowned. "soon…"

Ingrid missed the uncertainty in his voice, and pushed looked out the window. Standing up suddenly, she told him "I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back." Leaving him, she headed down the hallway.

The frowning child looked at his desk nervously. He reached out and started moving some books that were piled on his desk that had not been there before to the side. As he picked up the last book, he noticed a letter fall out of it onto his desk. It was blank.

Fillmore stared at it, unmoving.

He finally forced himself to take the letter and open it. He read it over one time and started shaking. Quickly he sat down and stuffed it into his drawer, so no one would notice. He sighed and hid his head in his hands, distressed. Folding his quivering hands in his lap, he sat back and looked out the window, caught up in a debate with himself. He recalled the events of earlier that day, weighing his options. He felt awful, twisting his hands around each other and pulling them apart, and putting them back together. He felt awful, he decided, as well as nervous, annoyed, angry, worried, helpless, and like he would burst into tears if he heard one more word of bad news, saw one more letter like that on his desk, been in one more situation where people were in trouble, had one more person pulling him across the school and back again on a wild goose chase when they had covered their tracks so well that not even a pro like him could pull out the smallest clue to where they were, even though they seemed to be handing them right to him. It hadn't always been like this, someone forcing him to sit on the edge of his seat for several weeks strait, worrying and contemplating his next move. Things had gotten worse, and worse, and worse.

Finally, he made a decision.

Standing up, he noticed Vallejo heading over. _Perfect timing._ He mused, waiting to hear what the head of the safety patrol had to say.

"Ok, Fillmore, here's the deal. We've got Folsom threatening to turn our headquarters into a storage facility, as usual, a theft crime spree, ten thousand suspects, and an unopened case. You got any good news?"

"How 'bout some bad news?" Fillmore replied.

Vallejo stared at him, confused. "What do you mean, Fillmore?" he asked.

"I'm quitting."


	2. Analysis

Yes, it's the second chapter! whohoo! it would have been up yesterday, but my Mom said I had to go to bed. In this Chapter, the reason Fillmore quits. Not double over and spit your milk out your nose funny, that comes next chapter. Maybe. Please read and review, anyway.

_NOTE: I do not own Fillmore. If I did, there would be more shows, not just the thirty-some that there are here. Also, this chapter would have more comic relief. Man, I really need to get O'Farrell in here... or make Vallejo look like an idiot. ... Nah. O'Farrell's charachter was designed for comic relief. How could I discard such a perfect bumbling idiot?_

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**ch. 2 Analysis**

"_WHAT?"_ Vallejo screamed. The rest of the room just stared.

Fillmore slid off his belt and offered it to the plump eighth grader. "You heard me, I said I'm quitting."

"But you're my best officer! This is your passion! You don't have any other clubs! We need you right now! Why the hell are you quitting?

"I want to."

"That's _not _good enough for me, Fillmore. You love this job. You told me yourself. If you quit, you can't come back and say, 'changed my mind', do you hear me? I threaten you with loosing your badge to make you stop doing things and it works! I know you love this job, don't do this to me!"

Fillmore dug into his pants and pulled out his badge. "Thanks for reminding me." Holding it out to him, he sighed.

"Why, Fillmore?"

"Can't you just take it?"

"I need a reason Fillmore! You can't just walk out on me! Why do you want to quit?"

"BECAUSE I WANT TO!" The African American boy screamed at him. "I just can't, Ok? It's been stressful. I can't do this anymore! And I do have other things after school. And another thing, I have thought this over. Several weeks now! Don't push me, or else!" his voice went up a notch. "And plus, the safety patrol is lame! I _never_ wanted to do it in the first place! I don't know why I kept at it, but you really need to lay off my back! I HATE the safety patrol!" he shouted and heard a gasp

The room turned to see Fillmore's partner, Ingrid, standing in the doorway.

Fillmore looked sad for a moment, but then frowned and shoved his belt and badge into Vallejo's arms and stalked off, fuming.

Ingrid watched, stunned. After Fillmore left, slamming the door, she asked, "What the hell was that about?"

Vallejo looked at her, eyes filled with worry. "He just… quit. I don't know what happened." Suddenly his eyes turned hard. "I don't know, it bothers me that he quit, and quit now. And not just because I need him to solve this case. Something's up."

"So…" Ingrid sat down at her desk, sitting on the edge and unable to relax. "Whacha going to do about it?"

He frowned at her. She wasn't taking this too well. He slammed the discarded badge and belt onto Fillmore's former desk.

"Call Frank."

* * *

Frank was surprised to see two safety patrollers on his doorstep at six in the afternoon. "Hey, Vallejo, and- it's Ingrid, right? Please come in. I'll get my mom to make some snacks." He stood aside to let them in. "Feel free to head up to my room, you know where it is, Vallejo." He said to them as they took off their windbreakers. When they looked up, they had found frank had disappeared to the kitchen.

Ingrid shrugged, and Vallejo led her up to the boy's room. Ingrid sat on the bed while Vallejo paced the wide floor. After what seemed like hours, Frank popped in with a tray of treats and three mugs filled with hot coco.

"So, what brings you to my house this late? Certainly not good news. Otherwise you wouldn't be pacing." He helped himself to the food.

Vallejo grabbed a mug and took a few quick sips before setting it down again. He opened his mouth and closed it, pacing the room again.

"Is it something about the robbery's that you have been getting? I'm sorry I couldn't be there to help with the bust, but you know I have those stupid piano lessons after school. I don't even like piano." He started, but Vallejo stopped him.

"No, it's not about that. Here," he said, handing him a file. "Take a look at this."

Frank took the file into his hands, inspecting it, his eyes drawn to a picture of a young seventh grader, a safety patroller. He read the name aloud. "Cornelius Fillmore. Hey, isn't he the guy who saved your-" he stopped. "I mean, our hide?"

"Yeah."

"I'm a profiler. Why'd you bring me a file of someone clean?" he asked, opening it. "Or not. Wow, this guy has really pulled off a whole ton of stuff. What'd he do?"

"Oh that…" Ingrid stepped in. "He went strait. Actually, he hasn't done anything bad for about a year, or so I'm told. He went strait."

Frank nodded to show he understood. "So if he's strait, what do you need me for?" he asked. "Fillmore seemed like the best guy on the force, no offence. If he didn't do anything wrong…"

"Well, there is one thing…" Vallejo started.

"We're getting somewhere." Frank folded his arms and listened.

"He quit."

Frank's jaw dropped. "What do you mean, _quit?_ At such a crucial time? He wouldn't do that!" he protested.

"He would and he did. Listen, Frank, it made me suspicious. Really, I think something's up. That's what we need you for. I know it's late, but could you come over and help us?" Vallejo pleaded.

Frank looked at the file, wide eyed. Finally he relaxed. "Man, he's got some bad timing. You have to solve that case, and now his former partner Wayne Liggett is visiting. He's going to get the surprise of his life," the boy muttered.

Ingrid was taken aback. "His partner's visiting?" she cried, astonished. "So that's what Jason meant!"

Vallejo looked sideways. "Who's Jason?"

"Some kid we met in the cafeteria. Said there was a surprise for him, and Fillmore said he wouldn't mind if it was a surprise, as long as it was a good one."

Frank looked at the black-clad girl in his room. "Were those his exact words?" he asked.

Ingrid shook her head. "No, his exact words were… let's see… 'Yeah, but I could use a surprise. I mean, if it's a good surprise. The theft today made me kind of edgy'. I think that's what he said, anyway. Photographic memory doesn't help with words as much as pictures." She looked at him. "Why would you ask?"

* * *

At the station, Frank sat at a long table in the investigation room. He pulled out Fillmore's file and a few things from his desk, checking them over and tapping his foot, thinking.

Ingrid came up behind him. "You never answered my question."

"Huh?" Frank asked, looking up. "Uh… oh, yeah. Well you see," he started, turning to her. "If someone says they wouldn't mind a surprise, I thought it might mean he was either depressed or bored. With the recent happenings I didn't think it was the latter. But the way you said it, or he said it, it sounded more like he wanted a stress reliever, or something to cheer him up."

"That's what he said," Vallejo commented, walking into the room. "He said it's been stressful. But things have been stressful before, and he never quit!"

Frank frowned. "He said it was stressful? When?" Vallejo opened his mouth, but frank held up his hand. "Nevermind, I'll be asking questions like that all over. Don't you have a security tape in headquarters? It would be easier to use that."

Vallejo thought for a second. "Oh yeah, we do don't we?" he said to himself. "Come on, follow me."

Soon the safety patrollers were watching a video of that early afternoon. We say 'safety patrollers', but it actually was the entire force, not just Vallejo and Ingrid. It seemed as though everyone was wondering why the best man on the force quit out of the blue.

Gathering around the monitor, the children murmured as frank simply crossed his arms, slumped in the cushioned chair, and frowned at the empty screen. Ingrid sat beside him on a wooden stool quietly. Vallejo walked in with a chair, seating himself next to the controls. Frank turned to their audience. "This might take a while, if you have something to do, it's not a good idea to wait around here."

The safety patrollers glanced at each other for a minute. Two people left the room after a quick word with their friends. Everyone else stayed.

Frank looked at the remaining group and sighed. It seemed as though Fillmore was more popular than he had thought. Instead of complaining, he swiveled around to face the screen once more. This tape would give him more of an idea of why the boy had quit.

Vallejo turned on the screen. "Ok, Frank. It's all yours." He said, maneuvering himself in a better position.

"Rewind it."

Vallejo rewound it to the spot where Fillmore had offered his badge to Vallejo. Frank put his elbows on the chair and thought for a second. "More." He requested.

"Why?" the boy asked, rewinding it.

Frank glared at the screen that had little people doing everything backwards on it. "Because." He answered. Looking for a minute, he said, "Ok, stop." And Vallejo paused it, and his hand hovered over the play button when there was a slam.

"What's this about Fillmore QUITTING?" A familiar voice asked from the doorway.

Slowly, the crowd of safety patrollers turned, making a clear pathway to the door, where Wayne Liggett was standing, bewildered.

Vallejo put his hand on his forehead. "Oh, Wayne… listen…"

"It's true, isn't it?" The boy interrupted. "Why would he quit the thing he loves?"

"We're about to find out…" someone in the back said.

"You should join us."

"Oh, Wayne. Thank god you're here; maybe you can talk some sense into him…" Ingrid muttered.

"No."

Everyone turned to stare at Frank. "No, let's just watch this first." He decided, and turned, motioning Fillmore's old partner to pull up a chair. Wayne hesitated, and sighed. He snatched a chair and put it next to Frank's, sitting on it anxiously. Frank looked sidelong at him before nodding to Vallejo, who played the tape. Once it was done, everyone turned to frank, who sat there thinking, eyes still glued on the screen. "Play it again."

Vallejo played it again from the beginning. When it was over, the room was silent. Frank sat up, speaking to everyone in the room. "Officer Fillmore didn't seem like the kind of guy to just walk out for no reason, or the kind to buckle under pressure. He seems like the kind of guy who would do anything to get the job done, anything to do what he loves most." He frowned. "Well, something he loves a lot. There had to be something he loved more to make him back down. Or something he hated more…" Frank commented, voice trailing off.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Wayne asked suspiciously.

"Play it again."

The whole room groaned, and one person left. They sat and watched the tape one more time, but with one difference.

They came to the shouting part. Frank tensed, watching.

"I HATE the safety patrol!" The automated Fillmore shouted, and Frank shot out his hand "PAUSE IT!"

Vallejo, caught off guard, fumbled with the switch for a second frantically, then hit the button with the two parallel bars on it Fillmore's face froze on the screen, and no one had to ask why Frank had requested the pause. They looked at the forlorn face on the screen for what seemed like hours before Frank spoke up. Shaking the chair back and forth, he turned to the confused audience.

"Ok, it all makes sense now." He said sadly.

"What makes sense? The reason why he quit?" Frank nodded to Wayne. "Why would he do something like that? He loved the safety patrol! It was his _life!_ I don't suppose there's any way to change his mind?" he asked the black haired person in front of him.

"Yeah," Ingrid added. "What's the reason he quit?"

The room seemed to lean in. frank looked at them, sad as ever. He couldn't believe it. They wouldn't believe it. It was his job, however, to tell them why. He just didn't want to see the looks on their faces when he told them. He turned away. "Two things. There are two possibilities, but they are related." He sighed.

"And they are?"

"Blackmail,"

The room gasped.

"Or Threats."


	3. A look Inside

**Hello. third chapter, here we go! It's really short and really doesn't go anywhere, so don't get too worked up over it. Read and review, Please. the next chapter will be better, I promise. It might not be around for a bit, though. just hang in there.**

_Note: I do not own Fillmore!or any other disney shows. If I did, It would have a bit better drawings for the background, funnier punchlines... Ok, maybe not... and more shows. _

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**Ch.3 a Look Inside**

The room was silent, no one moved. Finally, Wayne spoke up.

"He would never let himself be blackmailed. We all know about his past… and he isn't the sort of guy who would do something awful. Not anymore."

Frank turned to look at the boy, seeing worry in his eyes. He had a right to be, being one of his best friends. He turned to look at the screen. "Well, it's still a possibility. That face doesn't lie."

"What can we do?" Ingrid asked, desperate. "There must be something…"

Frank thought, looking at the floor. Finally he nodded, saying, "Well, we can't just sit back and let him figure it out himself. He already tried that."

"He did?"

"Otherwise he wouldn't have quit like that."

The others nodded, and he went on. "First steps, you have to find someone he trusts, and talk to him." He pointed to Wayne and Ingrid. "You two should go. Secondly, or maybe even _before_ you talk to him, we need to find them."

Everyone was confused, and then Ingrid said, "The notes. The threats-blackmail- that came to him."

Frank nodded. "That's why I watched it so many times. I was trying to see anything out of the ordinary." He muttered, putting his hands in his pockets. "But you only have part of Fillmore's desk on the tape, you know that?"

"We figured he didn't exactly need surveillance." Vallejo interrupted.

"It might be best to find them, so you can show him you know what's going on. He might still be receiving them, and wanting to keep it quiet. You have to play your cards like he would, and be careful. One wrong step could scare him away forever."

Vallejo knew a dismissal when he heard one. He had many of the sort from Folsom. He clicked the lights on, and people filed out. He turned, surprised, to see his friend sitting in the chair, hands over his nose in a pyramid shape, thinking. "Something wrong?" he asked, worried.

"I was wondering, can I borrow that tape for home viewing?"

Vallejo was slightly surprised. "W-well, yeah, of course. But- why?"

"See if anything comes up."

* * *

Ingrid and Wayne walked quickly down the sidewalk. It was rapidly growing dark out, and the street lights were coming on. "I hope he's at home," Ingrid muttered. "I do have a curfew… Do you think my dad will let up if I tell him that I was out late for one of my friends?" she asked Wayne. 

Wayne nodded, sighing. "I don't have one. Dad's working late tonight, so I'll probably be home before him. Out of town business is always a _pleasure_." He sighed again. "So you're Fillmore's partner."

She nodded.

"He talks a lot about you in his letters, always speaks very high of you." She looked down, embarrassed. "When Fillmore gives a compliment, it's been earned. Not a lot of people impress him."

"But he impresses a lot of people." She smiled, thinking of her partner. Going on, she said, "He's the nicest person I know! He pulled me out of a life of delinquency, and that was more than just nice. It was needed. I hear you did the same for him?"

Wayne smiled and nodded. "I busted him… and asked for his help on an unsolved case. He accepted, and wound up joining the safety patrol. It was kind of… ironic." He smirked. "I still give him grief about it sometimes. But, he is still the best officer ever to be pulled off the streets. Literally. Some people don't believe it though." He noted, making himself sad again. "Nevermind. Here we are at his house." Going up, he rang the doorbell.

It took a minute, but Cornelius's mother finally answered the door. "Oh, Children! Come in, come in… I wasn't expecting company this late!" she exclaimed, letting them in. "Wayne, How are you? Haven't seen you in a while. Do you like the place you moved to?" she asked, closing the door.

"I do now," he said back. "It's wonderful, and my parents love it there."

She nodded, and turned to Ingrid. "Ingrid, I… I'm glad you stopped by. Maybe you can talk some sense into my boy. He's just been so… moody since he came home. Did something happen at school?" she inquired, leading them up the stairs.

Ingrid looked at Wayne helplessly. "No," she finally said. "Nothing."

They walked up the stairs, and went to a room with a closed door. Knocking on it, Mrs. Fillmore said, "Cornelius, you have visitors…"

She opened the door and let the two in.

* * *

Cornelius was sitting on the bed when he heard the doorbell ring. He glanced at the door, and decided against going down there. Instead, he hugged his knees tighter and stared out the window. There had to be something he missed. There had to be some other way… but there wasn't. And besides, he had already quit. There was no two ways around it; whoever had been… well, it didn't matter. It was done. He would never go back there. Maybe he should have told somebody, or maybe he should have waited longer, but the stakes were too high. He couldn't risk it. He looked out the window again. 

It was better not to think of it.

He turned his mind to other things, like what he was going to fill his afternoons with. Golf was always good, but he didn't want to make anyone drop out because he was too good. He sighed and changed positions until he found one he preferred. Sitting on his bed and looking out his window, cross legged, was where he settled.

He loved the safety patrol. Why had he yelled like that? He probably made Ingrid feel really bad. Not to mention kicking the bucket on Vallejo when he needed him most. He giggled. It was a funny mental picture.

The look on her face… his smile fell. He wanted to protect her; he didn't want her to find out. How would she take it? He kept asking himself. How could he face her? He had just wanted to keep her away from it, but in the end, he wondered if it would have been better just to tell them.

He had come back to that. No, he couldn't tell them. What would it change? They'd probably keep their promise, that's what. He punched the open air in frustration.

There was a knock in the door. His mom's voice yelled, but he only caught "You have" something. He was lost in his own thoughts.

The doorknob turned, and the door swung open. He was looking out the window, but he could see that it wasn't his mom. He turned to the two people at the edge of his vision. "Look, please go awa-" he stopped, surprised, and fell off the bed, landing face down on the floor.

His friends gasped and helped him up in the sitting position. Fillmore looked at Wayne. "Wayne! Man, when'd you get here?" he asked, shocked.

"What's this about you quitting?" Wayne asked hysterically, ignoring the question.

Fillmore sighed, putting his hand to his eyes, pulling his hand along his scalp. "Nothing. Just…" he stalled. "Nothing."

Ingrid leaned in. "Frank says you're being blackmailed- or threatened- to get off the Safety Patrol." She stated.

Fillmore opened and closed his mouth a few times before he could get his voice to work. Pacing, he looked angry and helpless at the same time. "You asked Frank? To… snoop around?" he asked, confused and annoyed.

"Actually, it was to profile. You quitting wasn't exactly" she raised an eyebrow. "Standard behavior."

He tried to talk again, but his voice seemed to be on the fritz. He walked over to his desk, touching the papers laying out on top gingerly, but not really looking at them, trying hard to say _something._ "Stress," he finally got out.

"Don't believe it." Wayne said.

"Why do you think I was being threatened?" Fillmore demanded suddenly, turning back to his old friend and partner.

Wayne raised an eyebrow. There was silence, then Wayne said, "Frank's a good profiler, you said so yourself. We asked him, remember?" after a moment. "Come on, why would you quit?"

Fillmore put his hand over his eyes again, sighing. Through his fingers, Wayne could see he looked sad as they stared at the floor. Suddenly they turned hard, and Fillmore's voice rose a few notches. "I thought I told you. Stress. I just couldn't take it anymore. Look, I'm happy that you're back, but if you are just going to rag on me about quitting, you might as well just leave! I don't need you breathing down my back right now. Not _now,_ man." He sat on the bed and crossed his arms.

They were quiet for a minute, then Ingrid spoke up. "Fillmore, Listen. We need you right now. The school needs you. How can you do this? If it was your own decision, then please, just come back for a little while…"

"You need me." He muttered. "You needed me last week, and last month, and last year when Wayne moved. You will need me, next week, next month, next year, and what about after I graduate? To high school, no less? Will you need me then?" he asked, more annoyed than ever.

"That doesn't sound like the Fillmore I know." Ingrid said. "We know you're having problems. We know you're being blackmailed or- threatened- to get off the safety patrol. Why don't you just admit it and let us help you? We aren't just going to give up on you, just because you told us to." She told him. "But it would be easier if you told us… please?" she asked hopefully.

He pulled his legs over the bed, sitting cross-legged once more. He stared out the window, thinking. Finally, he spoke to them.

"Just go away."

* * *

Fillmore watched the reflection in the window, seeing them leave. Once the door closed, he sighed. _You could have told them Fillmore. Your troubles could have been over!_

_Or they could have started. It's better this way. Remember the notes? Remember?_ Another part of him asked. _Don't you realize what could have happened? It was close. Too close. Don't do it again._ He thought, hanging his head. Whatever. They were gone, and he wanted them to stay that way. If only Wayne had come earlier… maybe he wouldn't have quit!

But he knew he would have. After what happened today.

His head seemed crammed to the max, and he had no answers. He needed answers, he had needed them for quite some time now. He lay on his back, sighing and rubbing his temples. Looking up at the ceiling, he just thought about what it had been like the last two weeks. His own stubbornness was giving him a headache. There was no way to follow these jerks, no way to find them. they had been much to careful, much too secretive. There had been no fingerprints, there had been no special font on the paper, there had been no bits of evidence anywhere. There was just nothing he could do. He hadn't wanted to give up, but he figured it was best. If only someone could help him, but he was sure they were watching him. If he said anything, they would follow up on their promise. He had to figure it out by himself, and there was nothing to go on.

_the greatest detective on the force._ He thought to himself. _Right._

* * *

Ingrid and Wayne stepped out and nearly walked right into Mrs. Fillmore. 

"Mrs. Fillmore! I'm so sorry, I didn't… were you listening?" Wayne asked, appalled.

"N-no, I… well, maybe a… but it was just… worried." She tried to explain. "Doesn't talk to us anymore… just keeps to his room. I wanted to, well, know." Her expression changed. "He's being blackmailed?" she demanded.

"Actually, I think it's threatened." Wayne corrected, and Ingrid looked at him with a questioning look on her face. "Well, we nearly forgot 'threatened', and Fillmore would be the kind to say 'blackmailed or threatened' like we did. However, he completely forgot about the blackmail part. It's kind of like when someone knows about something, but they don't want you to know they know… and you talk to them and they end up saying something more precise than you had told them… like when Fillmore busted Penny because she said the name of the cards when he had not told her."

"But we did say threats were what we were expecting." She protested. "But you're right. I kind of got that feeling, too. But he wont let us search for the notes, and we'll never find them!" she threw her hands up into the air, feeling exhausted all the sudden. "what time is it?" she asked, only half curious.

The older woman checked her watch. "About… ten thirty five."

"AAAHH, CRUD!" Ingrid grumbled quietly, not wanting Fillmore to hear her if she screamed it. "My curfew!"

"Oh right!" Wayne exclaimed. "I… I'm sure we can get your parents to understand. We'll see what we can do tomorrow."

Ingrid nodded, heading downstairs. Mrs. Fillmore let them out. "Good luck." She whispered, closing the door after them.

Ingrid turned to Wayne. "you should come by the headquarters tomorrow morning, if you have nothing better to do. We'll turn the tape in to Frank." She pulled out the square recorder she had been hiding in her pocket and turned it off.

"I'm not sure if Frank will find anything more than we did, but it's worth a shot." Wayne muttered. "I still can't believe we did that though. It seems so wrong."

Ingrid put her hand on his shoulder. She knew how he felt. His friend was being strange, and in a fix, and there was nothing they could do about it. Plus, he had been friends with Fillmore longer than she had even known he existed. Now he felt like he was betraying him. Really, did Fillmore have to yell? He must really be under a lot of stress, then. Even if that wasn't the reason he quit, it was still a big possibility. They just needed to find the notes. Maybe they could get Fillmore out of the house after school… but she knew that wouldn't work either. "Look," she said finally. "we'll get him out of this, I'm sure of it. We just need time." He nodded.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow."


	4. an Insight

Yes, yes. short and sweet, I hope you don't mind. (I mean, it was three pages on my home computer, in microsoft word... I read through it in five minutes. sad) I will get something better and more revealing for you next chapter, but my guilty conscience was weighing heavily upon my mind. I had to write something, and this just sparked my imagination. I don't really have this thing thought out, you see. I just hope it's enough to satisfy your hunger. If that's what you want to call it...

_NOTE: I do not own Fillmore! or any of its 1,000,000 shows. Well, I would SAY one million, but I'd be off by about 999,984 shows. give or take a few. :Cries: _

* * *

**An Insight**

It was midnight. The school grounds were dark, with the exception of one light on the first story, which shone brightly. The fields were deserted.

Suddenly, a shadow slid from behind one of the trees. It made its way carefully, avoiding the light from the streetlamps and car lights. It slid around the building, approaching the lit room in the school. Reaching it, the shadow's face began to be revealed; a young boy, perhaps twelve years old. The boy reached up and knocked on…

The window next to the lit room. He smiled as the window opened. 'Oh, ingenious sir.' He laughed to himself, accepting the anonymous hand offered to him and climbing in.

Once inside, the helpful person who had assisted his climb into the room disappeared. Somehow it always was like that, someone helping him or passing on an object he needed and then disappearing into thin air. It was one of the master's secrets. He had several talented people under his control… people who could disappear into thin air, for instance.

He made his way down the corridor, finally pushing on an unlocked door, entering the room. It, like all the rooms in the school with the exception of two, was dark.

His first thought was that no one was here, but he held his ground. This had happened before, and would probably happen again. The master was always waiting for someone to make a mistake, and if he was going to be a fool and leave, he might as well make his way over to the safety patrol headquarters and turn himself in. turning around now might make it seem like either he was inattentive or a traitor, and no one wanted to be called that. Instead he waited.

Finally, from the far corner of the room, the master walked into plain view. Even in the dimly lit room, he could see the master's pleased smile.

The boy nodded. "Sir." He said politely. "Ingenious. I would like to say, you have really thought above and beyond your normal brilliance. And to top the day off you come up with a great concealment plan… I would have never thought of it. Turning on a light that not only lets me find the right room but lures away unwanted gazes was brilliant, Sir."

"Very good, very good. Have you news?" the master asked from the shadows.

"Yes sir. The plan today was carried out with near perfection. I only wish you would have given _me_ the honor of retrieving it for you. He even managed to snag a souvenir that will bring in quite a profit if you decide to sell. Rare stamp collection, sir." Seeing the master's nod, he went on. "Also, the second trap sprung by Amelia and Richard was far more successful than we could have hoped. If you catch my drift…"

The master smiled, chuckling to himself with pleasure. "I believe I _do._" He acknowledged, "But why don't you clarify anyway? I have waited long to hear those words, ever since we have begun. Before, actually." He grinned evilly, his eyes on the boy in front of him.

The boy hesitated. Finally he nodded.

"Sir. Cornelius Fillmore has resigned from the safety patrol."

The master broke out in laughter. "Wonderful news! If this were not an illegal operation, I would throw a party. In fact, I think I could arrange it. However…" his tone of voice changed dramatically, becoming very sullen. "We have more pressing matters, have we not? You can not tell me that Amelia has not made a mistake…" he raised his eyebrows slightly.

The boy nodded. From past experience he believed that either the Master was psychic or had watched the heist. He did not dare lie to cover up a friend's fault when the facts were already engraved into the Master's mind. He had not liked the girl anyway. "Sir, she didn't put gloves on. I don't know if they've checked it yet, but… well, she must have left them somewhere in her locker or her desk or something. She couldn't find them when it was time, so…"

"So what? She's gonna get us all killed. We need the evidence, whatever may have been pulled off, out of the reach of those dumb people we call officers. We've got two choices, both which concern kicking that loose headed girl out!" he said, voice dangerous.

The boy stood, thinking. "You know, really, it's not like we can do that easily sir. She… she's a blabbermouth. We won't be able to kick her off without some kind of insurance against her going to the authorities…"

The Master sighed. "Yes, perhaps." He paced, thinking. He shook his head. "I'll consider her later. Right now though, we need a battle plan. What to do, what to do… Here's what we're gonna do."

The boy smiled to himself, eyes flashing. The Master was a genius, being able to come up with plans on such short notice. He listened closely.

"Here's what we're gonna do."

* * *

Joseph Anza walked to school, head down. 

He stared at the sidewalk like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Actually, it was pretty boring next to school life these days, but it was also the preferable choice. How could Fillmore quit like that? It was insane. And the thefts were odd as well. No one knew when something would go missing, being carried off by a human or otherwise. They came randomly; one every week and then two at once, then a few at a time. If he didn't know any better, which was highly probable, he would guess that they were completely random. It was almost like last time…

Well, hopefully things wouldn't get that bad.

He shook his head, and went back to concentrating on the concrete, but now he began to fidget. It was hard to keep his mind off bad things like that. Somehow, it was even harder to focus on the good things lately, with all the awful things happening. There was no way he would be able to calm down anymore. His main assurance was the difference between last time and this time, Cornelius Fillmore. THIS time they had had him on their side instead of the enemies. Now, though, they didn't have that. It seemed like they didn't have anything. His one main goal in life was to be a police officer when he grew up. He liked this job, really. However, without proper practice in the safety patrol, that dream stayed that way; a dream. When he had joined the safety patrol, it had become his reality. Something he could grasp, something he could work with and become experienced with. He could really have a shot at it.

Now, though, someone was tearing it apart. It seemed like these thieves were making a mockery of his hobby, his love, his life. If they didn't tread softly, Folsom would put the place out of business, and then his dream would be gone in a flash. No, he couldn't let that happen.

There had to be something… some clue that would help discover who was behind this. Something they were missing…

It hit him.

He thought it over, and decided it really was a good idea. It was possible, it was probable, it was even plausible! But they still needed to check. All he needed was a few words to Karen and Vallejo, and they would be able to check it out!

Anza shook his head. "Don't get all worked up, Anza" he told himself. "Don't be too hopeful. It might not even be there…"

He turned the corner, his school in sight. Oh well. It wouldn't hurt to check it out would it? In fact, it would be just the opposite. They could finally catch the criminals and put a stop to this annoyance. And possibly, convince Fillmore to rejoin. Then all their troubles would be over.

He thought, smiling. Today… today I think, will be a good day.

Those words in his mind must have been an incantation for black magic, because it was that moment that everything turned sour.

The doors of the school were opened.


	5. Shards in their Wake

Welcome to chapter five. is it chapter five? it's chapter five. well, whatever. I finally got it up. not much longer than the previous chapter, but you can't say I didn't try. Well, actually, you could, but it would be a lie. Please read and review! um... does that phrase ever get boring? Read and review. Read 'n review. R & R. hm...

_NOTE: I do not own the fillmore disney show. if you think I do because I wrote a fanfiction about it, then please visit my 'I Own the right to your money' fanfiction I will be writing shortly. thank you. Click

* * *

_

**Shards in their wake**

Vallejo sat at the kitchen of his home, thinking. _'man, what am I going to do about this? Folsom's gonna KILL me. We don't have Fillmore, we don't have leads on the case, and things are disappearing from school faster than the second hand clicks. We need to do something, fast.' _He grabbed up a piece of toast, still lost in his thoughts.

"Son?" his father called out. "Are you going to get to school? You don't want to be late, do you?"

"No dad. I'll get going" he answered politely. Standing up, he passed his mother, who handed him his lunch. "Just set it on the table. I have to pack my book bag first." His mother nodded and set the brown paper bag down on the table behind her and turned back to her work.

The head of the School's safety patrol headed upstairs gloomily. He sighed and pushed open the door to his room. somewhere downstairs the phone rang, and was picked up by his mom. "Textbook," he mumbled to himself, stuffing the oversized reading material into his bag. "Pencil case," he went on.

"Son, there's a phone call for you!" His mother called up from the kitchen.

"Who is it?"

"Some guy named Joseph. He said he needs to talk to you. It's urgent."

Vallejo opened the door and made his way to his parent's bedroom. "That's Ok, mom. I'll get the phone in your guy's room." he replied, and picked up the plain white phone. _'this had better be good news, Anza.' _He thought to himself, and shook his head. Of course it wasn't going to be good news. What he didn't understand was why he had called right now, in the morning, instead of waiting for him and telling him the news then. Good or bad.

It really didn't matter that much…

"You got it sweetie?" his mom asked over the line.

"Yeah mom. I've got it." He answered, and heard his mother hang up. "Ok, Anza, what's the problem? Or is it good news?"

"GET YOUR BUT OVER TO SCHOOL RIGHT _NOW_ OR WE'RE GONNA HAVE SOME SERIOUS PROBLEM WITH THE TAMPERING OF EVIDENCE, YOU LAZY BUM! WHERE THE _HELL_ ARE YOU? WHY HAVEN'T YOU LEFT FOR SCHOOL YET? IT'S PURE **CHAOS** DOWN HERE!" Joseph yelled into the receiver.

Vallejo cringed, holding the phone away from his ear. "Bad news. Got it. But good grief, Anza, you don't have to yell… you nearly wiped out my hearing. I like being able to hear without my head exploding into a million pieces, please."

"You wouldn't say that if you were down here right now." Anza retorted, but quieted down all the same.

"Ok, so what's the problem?"

"Nothing. Well, everything. Look, just get here, OK? It's not like anyone's going to be getting into school anyway. Just meet me at the front." And with that he hung up on him.

Vallejo looked at the phone in his hands, then hurried to stuff the rest of his things into his bag. It didn't sound too good over there.

* * *

Vallejo got to school, and found the entire student body standing outside the school, as confused as he was. He pressed his way through the enormous crowd, flashing his badge to anyone who decided they wanted to be pushy that morning. After about five minutes, he found himself at the front of the building, which had been fenced off not by tape, but by branches. Joseph Anza stood at the front, tapping his foot and holding back the students when necessary.

"Alright, Anza, What's going on?" He demanded, stepping through the impatient crowd. "Why did you call me and scream in my ear, demanding that I get to school? What's the problem?" he inquired of the fellow officer.

"Oh good, you're here." He answered back "We've got a problem. Check this out." He led him to the doors.

"Um, out of curiosity," he started. "Why didn't you use the Safety Patrol tape? It would be much more effective than these branches. And we do have a lot, up in the office. It's not like we have a shortage or anything, unless that was stolen overnight…" Vallejo waited for an answer.

"Well, no one could get in anyway."

"What?"

"You heard me. Look."

He opened the double doors of the school to reveal the so called 'problem'.

There was glass everywhere. Shattered glass layered the floor, and there wasn't a single inch of ground where the glass didn't touch. In some places, the glass was piled an entire foot high. There was graffiti on the walls, and what looked like a giant S carved into the ceiling. Vallejo gasped at the scene. "When did this happen?" he asked, mortified.

"Probably last night. It's like this the entire way around the school. The teachers, who get here earlier, say they found the doors locked. Right now we don't have any answers for that bit, but I really don't know what to do. We can't let people get in here without cleaning up the glass first, but if we clean up the glass, the evidence will be ruined. I don't know where O'Farrell is, but Ingrid was right near here when I found the place like this." He pointed at the school. "So, the question right now would be, are we going to clear this out before we have a chance to know what this is, or are we going to stay here and keep the kids from going in the school and making it impossible for them to do anything?" he finished, looking at Vallejo.

"I…" Vallejo looked at the mess, then at the kids. "We've got a problem, all right." He sighed. "Now I know why you're so upset."

"Well of course." Ingrid stepped up behind Vallejo. "But that wasn't the question. What are we going to do Vallejo? This is terrible news." She looked at him intently, waiting for instructions.

"I guess it's really up to Principal Folsom."

The two safety patrollers looked at each other, then back at him. "Principal Folsom? You think she is going to have to make this decision?"

"If we don't find O'Farrell soon, Yes." He sighed. "If he isn't here to take pictures of the crime scene, we don't have the 'open' choice of letting these kids in. it all depends on what the Principal of X Middle school wants; to find out what this is, or to let her school run normally."

"Right you are about that." Principal Folsom appeared behind Vallejo. "You're a smart kid, turning to me. But then, I don't want to have to deal with this headache. So find little Danny and make him take these pictures or whatever, clean this place up somehow and see me in my office. Raycliff!" she yelled. "Get these people back a ways and FIND DANNY O'FARRELL! NOW!" she huffed off back to her car.

Ingrid turned to the student body, who had now been quieted between the scene of glass before them and Folsom's yelling. She scanned the crowd nearby, looking for the redhead boy. "ok, that was easy." She sighed. "It's too bad we don't know who did this yet. I don't want to deal with this headache either." She pointed to the crowd. "I think that might be Danny. Someone go check." At her words, a novice officer dashed off into the horde of children.

She turned back to the school. _'I wish Fillmore hadn't quit. This is so unfair. How could this happen right after he gets out of the safety patrol?' _she thought to herself, sadly. _'oh well. It doesn't matter. We have to deal with this now. First things first, where is the glass from? None of the windows are broken…_ she mentioned it to Anza, who told her he didn't know where it was from either.

"Well, it has to be from somewhere!" she exclaimed. "It didn't appear from out of nowhere…"

"We can check on that when Tehama gets to school. I called her and she had already left. Problem is, in the mornings, she rides the bus. It might take a while for her to get here…" Joseph shook his head.

Frank pulled out of the crowd. "Uh, what's going on?" he asked his friend, Vallejo.

"Someone trashed the school." He replied.

"Or several someone's…" Ingrid thought aloud.

"Dog, it was shard."

All the safety patrollers glanced up at that. They looked to the crowd quickly, just in time to see an African American boy slipping into the mass of children once more.

"Shard?" Ingrid asked to no one in particular.

She had a feeling that question was going to be answered.

Soon.


	6. Glass Rain

**Another chapter up. once more, sixth one. This chapter made it on the long side... it's longer than the last three, anyway. I hope that will keep you satisfied for a while during my 'creativity crisis' time. you're lucky I got it up at all! hah! anyway, I'm hoping that you read and review, cuz I havent been getting alot of critisizm lately. what's wrong with my story? I want to know. **

**A little on the funny side at the moment... I'm trying to introduce my running gag. I hope you don't mind the jokes, and that they give you some wierd visuals. that's what they're ment for, after all. And please don't kill me for what I'm making Poor Danny O'Farrell do. OK? and I WILL get Anza's idea known eventually. (Snickers.)**

_NOTE: I don't own Fillmore. sweet. wait, no! I said that wrong. It would be sweet if I actually owned Fillmore in another demension because this could be a feature lyngth movie... but then maybe in the other dimension I wouldn't have thought of this... but then I could... uh... I... um... think I lost track of what I was saying. anyhoo, I don't own Fillmore! YAY FOR ME!_

* * *

**Glass Rain**

"Where is O'Farrell?"

"Just relax, Vallejo." Ingrid's voice sounded from somewhere out of view. "Someone's looking for him right now. He _should_ know enough to flash his badge and make his way up to the front and help us, but you know how he is."

"Yeah, but without him, we can't proceed into the school."

"SO HAVE SOME PATIENCE!" Tehama screamed at him. She strutted over to where they were, stepping over the branches that were set as guidelines for the crowd. "What the heck is going on, here?" she demanded.

"Tehama!" Anza and Ingrid said at the same time. They both looked at each other like they'd done something strange.

"When'd you get here, Tehama?" Frank asked, leaning over the glass that was inside the school. He was studying it, and didn't even take his eyes off it when the girl came over.

"The bus just pulled up. What the heck is this?" she looked at the glass bits from Frank's shoulders.

Frank was silent a moment. "You tell me." He finally challenged, and turned back to the ground.

"Uh…" she narrowed her eyes. "Seems to be glass… or maybe Plexiglas… can't tell. Seems to be pretty cheap, though. What happened? Did the glass waste dump truck plow into our school?" she joked, but then her face turned serious. "It seems a bit strange that we'd have all this _glass_ lying around the school. There sure is a lot of it, huh?"

"Well, we can see that."

"Why are you just standing around?" she inquired.

"Looking for Danny. You know…" Ingrid shrugged. "Standard procedure."

Wayne pushed through the crowd. "What's going on? Why isn't anyone getting into the school? Oops, sorry." He pulled through and found himself facing the other officers. "Oh, hi guys. What's going-" he faltered, and saw the doors. "What the _hell?"_ he stared at the scene in disbelief.

"Oh good, Officer Wayne. You're here…" Vallejo pulled him apart from the spectators. "Now if only we could find O'Farrell…"

"I found him!" an unknown voice shoved a redhead boy from the crowd. The novice officer who had dashed off into the student body had finally found the cameraman of the safety patrol.

"Finally. Now O'Farrell… uh…" Vallejo was suddenly at a loss for words.

"What… are you wearing?" Ingrid asked cautiously.

Danny O'Farrell stood before them, his hair slightly mussed, wearing old, tattered jeans and a dark leather jacket. He had sunglasses which were rather large set on top of his head. Around his wrist was a circlet of broken string tied in a knot, and his shoes had several smudges on them. "Like it?" he asked, smiling. "It's my _bad boy look._" His voice changed lower halfway through his sentence, and he walked with a slouch in his stance. O'Farrell lowered his eyes halfway, looking at them with a smirk on his face. He took a step forward with his body in the slouched position and tripped over his own feet. "Ah, ok, so I need to work on the walk. But I'm getting there!"

Ingrid hid her face in her hands, and her body trembled. Anza, worried, poked her arm. Instead of crying, she burst out laughing.

"What the heck are you _doing_, O'Farrell?" she asked in disbelief, still laughing her head off.

The seventh grader stood and brushed himself off. "I'm letting out my _dark side._" He made a pose, which only succeeded in making her laugh louder.

Vallejo just shook his head, and pointed to the school doors. "Whatever, O'Farrell, just get going on the picture taking. This might end up being a long day…" he muttered to himself, when he saw that Anza's mouth was now quivering with the effort of trying not to burst out laughing like Ingrid had.

"Where did all this glass come from?" Danny asked them, lifting his camera and getting a few shots in before switching his angle.

"That's what we're trying to find out. Why weren't you coming up here to see if we needed you?" Frank asked.

"Oh, I was talking with my new _homies._' Ingrid laughed more.

"Your what?"

"Well, in _your_ language it would mean friends. Yay for me. They were asking me to do poses so they could take pictures. It was mostly girls. Why?"

* * *

Once Danny was finished, they made their way inside, Tehama pulling up large samples of the glass in triple layers of plastic bags, so they wouldn't get holes in them. The rest of them were stuck trying to get a path cleared for the students.

"Isn't this… a janitor's… job?" Frank asked, pushing the sea of glass back with his broom.

"They're right over there. We just figured they'd need help, that's all."

"So we're being good Samaritans today?" Anza inquired.

"Vallejo could at least try to help." Frank muttered, pushing back another sweep of glass. He noticed something. "Hey guys, look at this!" he pushed back some glass to reveal red markings on the floor, buried beneath the debris.

Ingrid noticed it. "Let's get some of this glass moved out of here." She instructed, and the people with brooms flocked to her.

After a while they finally made a clear spot in the floor. The markings were now visible, and they seemed to make a gigantic picture. "O'Farrell, take a picture now." She ordered, and the boy came up behind her.

"Wow. It looks like a giant picture of a necklace." He commented.

"What?"

"You know, those pictures in the jewelry ads that always come with the paper? They sometimes have those cut-glass things that if you look through them the world breaks into thousand versions of rainbow-rimmed pictures." He snapped a picture.

"You don't do this 'bad boy' thing very well, do you O'Farrell?" Anza smirked.

"It sounded like you were reading poetry." Ingrid pitched in. she smirked, and then looked back at the picture. _'He's right, though. It does sort of look like…one…'_ she studied it. The picture was of a glass shard, marked in thick red ink. To the side of it were the only words;

Shard Territory

* * *

The safety patrol headquarters was busy, people running to and fro with evidence, sorting out glass and peering through microscopes. Tehama and a group of sixth graders were busy dusting the glass bits for fingerprints, and she was instructing them in the proper way to do so. They pulled out large pieces of glass, which by the eye had nothing on it. They would dust it, wipe it off, and place it into a similarly marked bag. The bag, once filled, would be brought over to a table, where Ingrid, Anza, and some other officers were inspecting the glass carefully through microscopes. Eventually people would switch places, to give each other a break. Vallejo and Wayne shifted through files, paper and digital, to find any incident that might have linked to this one. The bells rang above through first and second period before anyone considered taking a break.

"So," Ingrid snapped off her rubber gloves and made her way over. "What've we got?"

"Lotsa' glass."

"Very funny. Really, what've we got?"

"Well…" Tehama pulled out the chart she'd just been filling in. she took time to place the glass she'd been inspecting into a large container. "Besides a major headache, I think we've found _something._ The data shows that there are three types of glass; the first is the glass they use in the florescent light bulbs, the second is the glass they use in the crafter's lab, where they do all types of glass work… we'll have to check with them. And the third type is the kind that the beakers in the science room are made up of. You can tell because of their shape and the labels that are still on them. As for fingerprints…" she sighed. "Nada. Seems they were pretty careful. Some kid named Ray found something on one piece he was dusting, and we're examining it right now. It might just be water, though."

"Remind me later to give this Ray a promotion. Or something." Vallejo exhaled and rolled his eyes. "Great. So we've got somewhere to check, and no fingerprints except one lead found on one of the seventy billion shards throughout the entrances. Such miniscule evidence…" he rubbed his forehead.

"Just be glad that it was only at the entrances." Ingrid smirked. "They did it only around the outside, for what reasons we've still got to figure out. Why do you think they did it, anyway? It's not like they'd gain anything except the morning off. It wasn't even that much of a break…" she moaned.

"Ah, well maybe it was just a stunt someone wanted to pull." O'Farrell shrugged. "To get down with their _bad side._" He pointed to them slyly, and smirked.

The others just stared in disbelief.

"No." Frank spoke up. "I don't think so."

Everyone turned their attention to the older boy. "Why not?" Vallejo asked his friend.

"Because of the amount of damage that was done. If they had just wanted to pull a stunt, it probably would have been something that hit closer to home with their personal life." He sighed and scratched the back of his head. "But what I don't get is the picture and the common theme of 'shards'. Shard Territory? What's that supposed to _mean?_ And what Fillmore said earlier…" he stopped, and looked away.

The group was quiet; each one thinking about what they knew was true. The faces of Ingrid, Vallejo, Wayne, Anza, O'Farrell, Tehama, and Frank all seemed hopeless.

"A-actually…" Anza stuttered out, trying to break the silence. "I think there's something that we should…" he was cut off by the slamming of the door.

"Alright!" Folsom's voice projected into every corner of the room. "Vallejo? I want my report!"

* * *

The safety patrollers found themselves inside Folsom's office once again. Ingrid and Vallejo led the way, while Wayne followed. He'd been invited as a temporary replacement for Fillmore at the time. He also was going to get the info on all the happenings and give what he knew, and also because he was a senior officer.

"Been a while since I've been here…" he muttered to himself.

"Heh, yeah. Don't they make you do this at your own school?" she asked, nervous.

"Of course. I meant I haven't been down in Ms. Folsom's office for a while. The other officers never had to come. Lucky dogs."

"Come." Folsom pointed to the chairs in front of her desk. "Sit." The children sat in their respected chairs as the principal scanned their faces.

"So… tell me. What's going on?" she asked, her voice dangerously cool. It wasn't a good sign. "Where were my officers when this happened? Sleeping? Playing at the arcade? Gambling the shirt off their backs?" she listed off several disgraceful acts one after the other. "What are you going to do about this?" she demanded after a moment of silence. "I do not sit here day after day talking with hundreds of annoyed parents and teachers about the condition of the school and its students to let it be swallowed by a sea of glass! And I haven't even begun to tell you about the theft problems that are destroying the school… if this happens like last time we might be going out of business! What have you been doing to fix this?" she demanded.

"Uh…" Ingrid choked out after a moment. That had been the longest rant that she'd ever heard from her principal. It almost left her speechless. She did regain her wits before her teacher started again, however. "We… have found the origins of the glass… and the thefts… uh… well, we're kind of on a standstill with that… we've been having some problems. But…"

"WELL YOU'D BETTER GET YOUR BUTTS IN GEAR!" she screamed at her. "Next time I see you, you and Fillmore had better… where is Fillmore?" she asked, noticing for the first time that he was absent.

Ingrid looked at the floor, and it was Vallejo who spoke up. "We've been having… problems?"

"Where's Fillmore?" she asked again.

"He… uh… quit."

"HE _**QUIT?**"_ Folsom screamed, standing. She nearly tore her hair out of her head. "Why in god's name would he--"

"We're working on that, too." Vallejo tried to console her, before she disturbed the school with her screaming. "We think maybe someone was blackmailing him."

"Threatening."

Vallejo turned to look at Ingrid, who was still staring at the floor. "Oh. You think it was threats? Did you make some headway?"

"Yeah, we talked to him. Still gotta give frank the tapes, though." She frowned. "He didn't tell us what was going on though, if that's what you mean."

Folsom just watched the scene unfold before her. "Ok. So he quit. And you've got Frank Bishop… doing something. So what's the problem?" she asked.

"Fillmore's awfully stubborn. And we still don't have anything that says he really didn't quit of his own free will… it's just probable." Vallejo spelled it out to her.

"Ok. That's why Wayne is here with you?" the other two turned to see the boy behind them, who was wincing and tapping his ears carefully. "That's a start. At least you'll have someone with experience." She grumbled. "Where do you think you'll find evidence of it anyway?"

Ingrid thought for a moment and shrugged. "Maybe at his house?" she sighed. "But there's no way to check that… he's going to be spending a whole heck of a lot of time there, now that he has no after school activities."

The older woman just sat in her padded chair and tapped her teeth, thinking. "Well, if it helps, I could get you out of school. It would be irresponsible, but we need to get his help." She thought aloud to herself. "Well? How would you feel about skipping school?" she asked them.

"Skipping…" Vallejo looked at Ingrid.

"School…?" Ingrid finished, looking back at Vallejo.

"Today?" Wayne exclaimed.

"Yes." Folsom smiled. "On one condition…"

* * *


	7. Forward Movement

Once again, I stand before you with a new chapter. Welcome, Fillmore fans! eh... sorry. Ok. Now... This chapter is conciderably more packed in words, info, clues, and foreshadowing. It features new characters and the plot. and sets up some action. that's a must. Obviously, this will take more than a moment to read. I hope you like it! also, I forgot to spellcheck. do your best to find the mispelled ones for me. eh... sorry about that.

on with the seventh chapter! oh, I just realized that I'm spreading things out a bit much. I really need to shorten it. This story might be anywhere to 17 chapters long, though I doubt it. now, R&R.

* * *

_Note: I do not own Fillmore! Every single waking hour of my life that I worry about not owning the Fillmore disney show takes an entire sixty minutes off my life! (sob)_

* * *

**Forward Movement**

"What condition?" Ingrid asked, suspicious.

Folsom stood up and walked to the window, sighing. "I've been getting a lot of calls lately about the _other_ case you're supposed to be on. The stealing things. Apparently, if we don't stop these hooligans, I'm going to be out of a job." She sighed. "And you out of a school."

"What?" Ingrid asked, surprised.

"It takes money to run a school you know; money to buy materials. If those materials… suddenly disappear… then we loose money. It takes money to replace materials. The teachers are thinking of going on strike because the head of the school board won't give out any more money for new things. The parents are concerned about their children's safety. I've got a lot on my plate, too. You did stop it last year, when this was happening. You have to stop it this year, or I'll be kicked out of the school, and it would end up closing down sooner or later."

"L-last year?" Ingrid asked, confused.

"I'll tell you later, Ingrid." Wayne responded.

"So…" Vallejo was thinking. "If we finish this, we get to cut school… to go get someone we need on this case…"

"Well, no." the principal shook her head. "I just need you to get me some good news. Progress on the case. So far you've given me nada. Zip. Nil. Nothing. And, well, that doesn't go down well with the boss, if you know what I'm saying." She narrowed her eyes.

"Uh… I get the picture." Ingrid said hastily. "I mean- _we_ get the picture. Right guys?" she looked around at the two sitting near her, who both nodded quickly.

Folsom stood strait, cracking her back. "Good. Get me something by Wednesday. Now shoo."

* * *

"Ok, Anza, what's bothering you?" Vallejo asked as soon as he walked through the door. Anza was pacing and pulling at his hair. He turned to see several of the officers staring at him, but he didn't mind. Instead he went up to Vallejo quickly.

"Hey, what if…" Anza looked strait into Vallejo and Ingrid's eyes. "I told you we have a chance for getting more evidence on the stealing case?"

There was silence for a moment, then Tehama grabbed Anza's arm and dragged him over to an empty room that was connected to Vallejo's office. Wayne, Ingrid, Frank, and Vallejo followed him.

"Alright, what've you got?" Vallejo asked kindly but impatiently.

"Well," Anza started. The phone rang.

"Hold that thought." Ingrid muttered, answering the phone. "Could you wait a moment? How important is this? Uh huh. Right. Sure, we'll send someone over right away. Soon as possible. Yes, yessir. Yes sir, I do work here. Look, are you _trying_ to be annoying? I said… Hello? Oh, hello. Er.. he was just…Yes, we're on it soon, just give us a minute, please miss. Ok, thank you ma'am." She hung up, scribbling on a notepad. "Ooookayyy… there." She put a dot on the paper with a large 'tap', and folded the paper and stuffed it into Vallejo's hand. "We got an 'anonymous' note from Mr. Ringley. Says someone's causing trouble in the halls."

Vallejo stepped out and gave instructions to two children in the other room. They raced outside, holding the note in their hand. Vallejo stepped back into the room, and looked at Anza. "Ok. Shoot."

Anza opened his mouth, closed it, then shut the door, locking it. "Look, I've tried to mention this to you… one, two three… four times already. Each time, I've been interrupted. Ok?" He told them, when they gave him strange looks.

"Fine, fine."

Anza started again. "Ok. You remember those boxes that nearly dropped on ingrid during the last heist?" the boy asked.

"Yeah. They were clean, if that's what you're asking." Tehama folded her arms.

"Yes, but where were they dropped from?"

Ingrid opened her mouth to answer when suddenly, she realized what Anza was getting at. Vallejo, Tehama and Wayne didn't, though. They exchanged glances, wondering what Anza had meant. So, Anza went on. "We were in the cafetiria… how much room is in the ventilation above the cafetiria?"

"Not much…" Wayne tried to understand.

"Exactly. Where are the only two places that the ventillation comes out?" Anza urged his thought process along.

"Outside…"

"And…" Ingrid was breathless. "The crafter's lab…"

This struck them hard. "Where the glass samples are from?" Vallejo asked. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would it let out in the crafter's lab?"

"The ventallation doesn't exactly 'let out' in the crafter's lab. The crafter's lab was created right by the outside, but then had to be moved beside the cafetiria because of some project they were working on." Ingrid explained. "There is a great amount of heat in the Glass portion of the crafter's lab, because they work with ovens that bake over 4000 degrees ferinheit. Since the crafter's lab was moved, it has no way to get out the steam and heat from them. The crafters lab has also made it to the basement, where there is no ventillation whatsoever, so they had to create a special vent that ran through it… and the cafeteria." Ingrid pulled out a file from the cabinet near them, becoming excited.

There was a silence as everyone digested this. Suddenly Vallejo lauged. "You… can't be serious! We've got a major clue for the first time in this case! EVER!"

"Calm down, vallejo. Relax…" Tehama smiled.

"Well, that was an impressive piece of Factual evidence. Where shall we start?" Anza laughed.

"What do you think we'll find?" Ingrid asked.

Anza thought for a moment. "Fingerprints." He finally answered. "Or suspects."

Ingrid shrugged. "Either one works."

"Do we have to bring 'bad boy Danny'?" Tehama made her voice go low, mocking the other seventh grader.

"Aw, come on. He's trying to lighten the mood." Vallejo said as ingrid laughed.

"And it looks like he's doing a pretty good job of it too." Wayne commented. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Frank. "Oh, ingrid. The tape…"

Ingrid looked at him. "oh, right. I almost forgot…" she fished the black instrument from her bag. "We need to give this to him. I really hope he finds something on it… it's going to be tough if we don't have Fillmore here." Her eyes were sad for a moment before she trotted off after Frank.

"She's really not taking this well, huh?" Tehama asked.

Wayne shook his head. "No."

* * *

Wayne, Tehama, Anza, ingrid, and O'Farrell walked down a closed hallway in the basement of the school (or in O'Farrell's case, slinked down the hallway). Lights from the Florecent bulbs glared brightly in the small space, glistening off the tiles. They turned the corner, noticing the tiles changing from run-of-the-mill school standard tiles to intricately laid marble stones. "Wow. Look at that." Ingrid commented.

"Isn't it pretty…" Tehama agreed. "wonder when they got the permit to retile? I didn't hear about anything like this happening…"

"You know what?" Danny asked. "Is it hot in here, or is it just me? It's hot in here."

"Stifling." Anza agreed.

"Hm…" Wayne glanced up. "Isn't the ventalation working?"

"Perhaps we'd better take a look." Ingrid agreed.

"Perhaps we'd better take a break. I'm starving!" Danny complained. "That warrant took all afternoon to get even though it was urgent. And we had a ton of evidence." He added, rolling his eyes. Then he remembered that bad boys don't roll their eyes, and stopped. "Perhaps I should growl…"

"Perhaps you shouldn't."

A large wooden door made of teak. "Ok, this is rediculous." Ingrid rolled her eyes. "Whatever. As long as we…" she raised her hand, knocking on the door.

"Just a minute!" there was a female voice from the other side of the door.

"…Can get in." she finished her sentence, as the girl opened the door.

The girl had shoulder length brown hair with bangs on either side of her head dyed blue. She wore a simple blue t-shirt and heavy black pants. There was also a large crystal around her neck, and her hands were clothed with black gloves that supported a crystal design on the back. She was medium height, coming up to be just bearly taller than Tehama. "Hello. What may I do for you? Customers?" The girl asked politely.

Ingrid and Wayne exchanged glances. "Actually," Ingrid flashed her badge. "We're here on buisness."

"Ah." The girl stood by and let them in. "I should've gessed by the belts. Say, what might…" she eyed the large group. "be the problem…?"

"Well, as you might've guessed from this morning, we're going to have to check your place out."

"You have a…" Anza showed her the paper. "Warrant. All right. I suppose. But you'll have to let the others know before you start. Sometimes there's confusion and something breaks." She muttered. In a lower voice, she mumbled, "such clumsey fools."

"What was that?"

"My name's Rian. Short for Brianna Costlehimer? You wouldn't have heard of me. I'm not really a spotlight girl. May I show you around… Or don't you need me?"

"Show us around, and then we'll start." Wayne told her. "Thank you very much."

"You're welcome." The girl replied happily

They walked around, letting Rian show them around and alert the rest of the people they were there. Wayne leaned over to Anza. "So wha'cha think?" he asked quietly. "Rian might be a suspect… or no?"

"Well…" The boy shrugged, unable to make up his mind. "She is awfully polite…"

"Well, well, what do we have here, Rian?" a Tall adult with a kind face stepped up to them. "Customers? Or…" He saw the orange stripe that went across the children's bodies. "Perhaps officers. What can we do for you? My name's Vince Jameson, by the way. Have we done something wrong… or…"

"We're just here because of the incident this morning. We need to do a double sweep." Wayne told the man. "Once for checking the glass, and once for fingerprints and suspects. We need to know if anything's been suspicious around here."

"I understand. Tamas?" a tall, lankey, blonde boy showed up at the door. "C'mere a second. These nice kids need to speak with you about all that went on here yesterday. Just yesterday night?" He asked them, making sure. The kids shrugged.

"Whatever works. We're also working on another case, that's been going for a while. The thefts?" Ingrid asked. "We've traced them back to here, roughly. I suppose it's possible they were never here, but we need to know."

"The thefts? Well, I wasn't expecting that… but you can ask us anything. I've got no intention of hindering your search." Mr. Jameson nodded at them, then at Tamas. "You help them along. Don't let anyone here give them trouble, Ok?" he told the boy, then left.

"Hello officers. And hello, _Rian._" Tamas's voice showed distrust as he saw the blonde girl standing next to them. "What a… nice surprise. Could you leave us? Perhaps?"

Rian looked peeved and she rolled her eyes. "Yeah, big shot. Sure. _I'll_ leave." She glared at him. "But you had better _appologize._"

"For talking to you? I'm sure I do."

Rian opened her mouth, then glanced at the safety patrollers and clenched her fists. "I will not stoop down to your level." She grumbled at him. "I won't." she began to walk away.

"Yeah. I've already stooped down to _your_ level by speaking to a _fragment._" He spat the word out, as though it was poison to speak it. "Now leave." He glared at her back as she left before turning to the safety patrollers. "I'm sorry if I seemed rude."

"Yeah, a little bit." Anza rolled his eyes.

"She's only pretending to be nice because of your belts. She's nice to you, and to customers, but she gives everyone around here a tough time. And she's a fragment." He muttered under his breath.

"A what?"

Tamas struggled for a second, trying to explain it. "Someone who leches things from others. She's a con-artist, you see. That's why she's good for selling things." He finally finished. He sighed. "We really don't get along well."

"That's obvious. So…" Tehama said, changing the subject. "We need to know about…"

"The glass this morning." He finished. "Yes. I can show you. If you'll just follow me?" he stopped by the door to grab some keys. "I'm known down here as Tamas, if you didn't catch that. I'm sort of a supervisor down here. My passion is carving wood… that's what my name means. 'dark tree.' But I also spend a large amount of time in the glass, molding, and painting areas of the lab, so I've just been assigned as caretaker. I can tell you right off the bat that we're missing a large amount of glass from the storage." He told them.

"How much glass?" Wayne asked.

"Well, about two thousand pieces, young and old. I'm estimating… it's probably more than that, even. I can't believe they just slipped out from right under my nose, I should've seen this coming…" he sighed. "Anyway, we're also missing several florecent lightbulbs from the supply closet, and one of the security cameras was busted, so we have no tape to show you. Sorry."

"You have security around glass?"

"Yes. The total of it is actually quite pricy. It would be a shame if everyone's art was stolen. Some range up to thirty or forty dollars!" he told the amazed group. "Although, with the recent thefts, we can't say it's a surprise. I'm just surprised they didn't take anything sooner, that's all."

Tamas had led them down a hallway lined with intricately patterned tiles. "So that's how you afford the tiling?" Tehama asked. "You sell your pieces?"

"Actually, it's a funny thing." The lanky blonde looked at the walls in a sideways glance. "We haven't sold nearly enough to get this much money… for this kind of tiles. Most kids feel attachment to their pieces. I just remember them putting it up last month."

"Last month? There was nothing about that in the paper." Ingrid said, suspicious.

"No? I suppose not. It was a rather quiet operation. Here we are." Tamas opened the door with a key. Swinging the door open, he revealed hundreds of large, well built shelves… that were almost empty.

"You weren't kidding when you said you were missing a lot of glass." Danny commented, leaning in.

Tamas snatched a large book from a table nearby them. "This is the logbook. Every piece that's been taken has been marked with green. It was calculated this morning." He told them.

"anyone suspicious around here?"

"That would be hard to tell. I'm usually the last one here, but there were a few people still working when I locked up the place. I only left the carver's lab open." He told them. "I don't know how they got in. Vince usually takes the keys home, but he didn't today. He just set them in the safe, because there were kids here still." He told them.

"Wait, so the keys were in the safe?" Danny asked. Tamas nodded. "then how…"

"Must be someone from the inside, then." Ingrid commented. Tamas frowned. "We'll need to sweep the place, and question people. Will you find who was here last night?" She asked him.

He nodded, still deep in thought. Finally he made his way over to the door. "Ah, DL's gonna kill me. Oh, feel free to check anything. You might want to not break any glass, if poss-" there was a loud crash as Danny bumped into one of the shelves. "Uh, nevermind. Recycle binns are in the corners." He told them and left.

Ingrid watched him go. _He's nice. A lot nicer than I thought he'd be, after that first greeting._ She thought. Turning, she found everyone trying to get to work, and Tehama sitting on Danny's back so that he wouldn't break anything else. "Hey, now that we're alone, can you tell me what exactly happened last year?"

Everyone looked at her. "Last… oh." Tehama was trying to find fingerprints in anything within arms reach of her post over O'Farrell. "Anza? You're good at stories. And he was yours, Ligget." She nodded to the seventh grader.

Joseph sighed. "Fine, fine. Ok… where to start? It's actually a pretty short story, really." He told Ingrid. "Last year, right around this time, things just started… dissapearing…" Joseph's voice went all spooky. "just like this year. The teachers got so sick of it they threatened to go on strike. The school nearly went out of buisness. When suddenly… it stopped."

They were all listening closely. After a moment of silence, Ingrid sat back. "Short and anti climactic." She muttered. "Why'd it stop?"

"None of us knows. It was extremely successful. They had Fillmore, after all. It was only a month before Wayne caught him boosting chalk. The fact is, no one knows why the thefts suddenly quit. Maybe they got sick of it." Danny said, pushing Tehama off him. "My back…"

"I…'m going to check over here." Karen muttered, heading twards the vent. "For fingerprints." She muttered, as there was another crash behind her.

"Danny!"

"not my fault!" he cried. "I mean, it's these glass pieces. They're so… breakable." Everyone rolled their eyes.

* * *

It had been about an hour. They'd searched the place for fingerprints and fibers, footprints and faces. In other words, any sort of clue. After an hour, though, Danny was still sitting in the corner so he wouldn't break anything, Tehama was dusting every surface imaginable, and the questioning went on. Finally Ingrid spoke up.

"Well, we've got a suspect up at headquarters. Suppose we should head back before school lets out and they have to leave?" Ingrid asked, looking at her watch.

"Yeah. Too bad we didn't… he-lo…" Tehama was dusting the inside of the vent, as a last ditch effort to find something. "What's this?" she leaned in.

"Probably lint." Danny told her. "There's usually lint in the ventalation system. That's why I can't help you… bad boys don't get their clothes dirty crawling around in vents." He smirked.

"Well, it looks like someone did. Lookit what iiiiiii've got…." She dusted, pressing a piece of tape against the vent and taking it off. She slapped it onto paper. Ingrid recognized the procedure as what Tehama had taught her earlier.

"you've got…"

"FINGERPRINTS!"

"Back up to headquarters we go…" Wayne stood up happily and looked as if he were about to skip and prance all the way back. "We got a clu-ue. We got a clu-ue…"

"Since when are you so happy?" Tehama asked. "You were never like this before, you know."

"Since I've been stuck down here way past my lunch hour in a stuffy room full of breakable objects trying my hardest not to give up and break something for once. You know, it might just be fun to topple over all these shelves…" Wayne smiled and headed for the door.

"We'd better follow him." Ingrid noted. "We don't want to be left behind…" she raced after him and out the door.

Vallejo greeted them with open arms. "So, you got anything?" he looked at Wayne. "You got something, didn't you? That big smirk…"

"How about a fingerprint?" Tehama asked, waving the paper in front of his face. She'd finally caught up with Ingrid and Wayne. "One… distinct… fingerprint. The funny thing is, it looked like the vent was wiped off… like…" She glanced at ingrid. "Someone had anticipated our arrival and swept the vent clean. The fingerprint was in a corner. That's why it must've been missed. There were only little smudges of the adjacent fingers…"

"Oh." Vallejo was sitting there and taking it in. "Ok." Finally it hit him. "A finger print, a finger print! We've got a finger print…" he sang.

"You're worse than Wayne."

"Can you blame me?" He smiled. The door behind him opened, and some novice officers pulled in a kid who was putting up a great fight. "woah, that's the vandal? Get him into the inquiery office. That'll hold him. It's Ray, right?" One of the officers nodded, and dragged the frustrated boy into the room.

While Vallejo was distracted, Frank came up behind Wayne and Ingrid. "So," he said suddenly, making them both jump. "I've got a question."

"Really." Wayne said, his voice a bit off key. "Shoot."

"I listened to that tape you gave me. What was Fillmore doing before he said this?" frank played the tape, which said softly 'Stress.' 'Don't believe it.' Frank clicked the off button.

Ingrid thought back to the talk she had with Fillmore the previous night. He'd fallen on the floor, gotten up, paced, gone over… "Went to his desk. Why?"

"What did he do?"

"Touched some pape-" Ingrid realised what he'd meant. "The notes?"

"Possibly."

* * *

Cornelius Fillmore sat in his dark room. Outside, the sun shone strongly near the horizon in the sky. Fillmore was not watching it, however. He had the shades closed, the door barred, and was sitting at his computer on his desk. The eerie glow of the screen lit his face oddly. Cornelius was frowning at the keys absent mindedly. "Shard… back…" he muttered to himself. He instantly knew that quitting the safety patrol was a mistake. A _prearranged _mistake. And who had threatened him. It was…

… all Shard's doing.

Of course. How could he be so stupid? _Idiot. Idiot. Idiot._ He knew now what was going on. _Idiot._

Shard just wanted to get him out of the way because he knew things… from his earlier days… that could help the safety patrol bring them down. Fillmore sighed, glaring at his keyboard and thinking. Shard wasn't an idiot. He was the most crafty, cunning, sly person on the planet. Of their age group, of course. Oh, wait…

"Great." Fillmore sighed. "What do I do? What do I do?" He asked the keyboard. The light of the dying sunset behind him glared on the keys, making them seem blood red in color. Fillmore started shredding a page of blank paper that sat on his desk, to calm his nervees. The 'S' and 'U' keys were covered up by bits of paper. "I know things… but if I tell them… if I tell them…" he glared down, then up at the monitor.

_If only there was some way to go back in time…_

_If only there was a way to fix this. _

Fillmore glared. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Thoughts ran through his head… when he used to be a gangster, when he used to be a bad boy, when he joined the safety patrol, when he busted people time and time again. He really did miss it a lot. The school was going into a chaotic downfall. All he could do was watch helplessly as friend and foe tore down the school with their actions… with their fighting. He didn't want that.

Yet here he was, sitting at home, in front of his computer, kicking himself. That didn't help in the least. Was there a way to help? Was it possible he had missed something? There didn't seem to be any way to fix this… but he didn't want to abandon his friends. But then- if he got involved, wouldn't he be doing just that? "Wouldn't I?" he asked his computer. He could see his reflection in the screen. Leaning back, he crossed his legs and put a hand on his chin and thought.

"What do I do?"

* * *

"Woah, hey! Slow down! Don't you kick me!" Ingrid heard Vallejo's voice over in the other room.

"No way, man! There aint nuthin' I'm gonna do! I aint gonna answer your dumb-head questions! I wanna lawyer!"

"You can't go around trying to take money out of a pop machine by disassembling it, getting caught red handed, and expect us to think that you're innoce-OWCH! I said cut it OUT!"

Ingrid smirked. The new kid here was giving them trouble. He'd been caught in the middle of dismantling a pop machine to find three quarters. Ingrid sighed. Some geniouses could be really dumb sometimes.

She was searching the school's database on who's fingerprint they found could be on vallejo's computer. Tehama would normally take the job, but she was trying to calm down the kid that was just brought in. the other guy… Ingrid thought back. There was a vandal that had been brought in. he was surprizingly cooperative. He probably didn't want the entire two months of detention they normally gave when someone was caught vandalizing the school. Most kids didn't, but they went about it the wrong way. (kicking and screaming, like the guy next door.) this guy was cooperating, and she suspected they'd cut his sentance down by at least two weeks, if not more.

Ping! Her computer blinked at her. Ingrid thought she had found a match to the fingerprint. Instead there was a small window.

**Su-il-en9roc** **wishes to chat**

Ingrid looked irritably at the message. It was nearly six at night. She didn't want to chat with anyone. She ex-ed the little bar out. Her program resumed. Being a fingerprint finding program, it went by alphabetical order in suspects and could be excruciatingly slow. She tapped her fingers. He became Hu before the computer made another Ping! And the same message showed up again.

**Su-il-en9roc wishes to chat.**

Ingrid wasn't happy about this. She saw it as a nuisance. Who'd wanna chat with her? She red the name. "I think it's french…" she thought aloud. "Su il en… rock… known… known it in rock." She translated. "Like runes?" she shrugged and was about to X out of it when she changed her mind. Her arrow went to the blank type box below.

"known it in rock? Are you french? What's with the name?" she typed, then clicked **send**.

There was a second. Then Ping! Her computer uploaded the text. "**Actually, a bit. It is French, if that's what your asking. I'm impressed. Normally, people wouldn't open up on the second message. Call me Rock.**

Then there was another message underneath that one.

**I was told you're the one to mail about the happenings of X.**

Ingrid stared at the screen. She was now extremely happy that she'd changed her mind. "Happenings of X?" she typed, then pressed **send** once more.

**This morning.** Was all he wrote.

"Wayne, get in here! We're getting an anonymous tip! This is important!" Wayne's ears perked up and he turned, going into Vallejo's office. Several heads turned as well.

"What's this?" Wayne asked, looking on the screen. "This morning? What's he…"

"Rock…" Ingrid wrote. "What do you know?"

**You're wondering what it means, right? **Ingrid typed back "Yes." **All right then. The incident this morning had to do with a man, or group, called 'Shard'.**

"Shard?" ingrid looked at Wayne. He shrugged. He'd never heard of it in his life. The bold text went on. **It's actually a gang at X middle school.** Ingrid winced. **They mostly steal things, as you can see by the latest theft reports.**

"What?" Ingrid typed and spoke aloud at once. "You mean the thets and this… are related?"

Vallejo peeked into his office. "Who are you talking to, ingrid? … they're related?" He asked in wonder.

**Yes. The incident is tied back with what happened a year ago, with the thefts. Of course, you'd probably already guessed that. **

"Do you know…" Ingrid wrote after a moment, "Why then, if they steal things, that they decided to vandalize the school?"

**you really are smart… um… I realised I don't know your name. Can I call you 'grid'? it's on your account. Ingrid… oh, wait. Nevermind. This is Ingrid?" **

Ingrid nearly laughed. "Tha… that's funny" she said aloud. "Yes, my name's ingrid. Why would you not know my name, if you sent this to me first?" She typed, and then sent it to roc.

**Ok. Sorry about that ingrid. See, I got a source from one of my friends that this is the place to call. I'm such an idiot sometimes. Let's see… **there was a break in the line, when he sent another message.

This one was conciderably longer. Vallejo and Wayne read over her shoulder as she scrolled down. **Well, the incident really dates back to last year. They were on the crime spree, as you know, and suddenly they stopped. Only the gangs and inner circle know why… and if you'll excuse me for saying so, I used to be in the Shard gang. They really don't trust me now, though. I guess they shouldn't, since I'm handing out secret info… oh well. I hate them anyway. So, the real reason they quit is because of a SECOND gang. Their name is 'Dragon.' They're really not as bad as Shard's gang is. There's almost NO illigal activity going on in the gang, but there is a lot of fights. Dragon is sort of like… a ruler gang. It makes the rules by force. Last year is when it showed up. The gang Shard was supressed beneath Dragon's power in a series of territorial fights. This year, I suppose, goes under the same concept. But instead of Shard bending under force, they retalliated. That's basically all there is to the vandalizing. **

Ingrid stared at the screen. She was about to answer, when Anza appeared at the doorway. "Ingrid? We need you in here. There's this thing about the vandal that was brought in earlier… he says he wants to give info in exchange for time off his sentence." He told her.

"Oh. How much is he getting?" she asked, her brain skipping to the situation at hand.

"Cleaning of the markings and a month's detention."

Ingrid nodded. "Just a minute." She turned to her computer. "Rock. Hey, I'm sorry. There's something that's just come up, and I need to see to it. Can you and I talk later, when there's, I don't know… sun out?" she typed.

**Go ahead with whatever you need to do. I understand. We can chat after school, of course. I need to remain anonymous. **

"When do you get home?"

**twenty… sometimes thirty minutes after school. I'll email you.** Rock emailed her.

"All right. Goodbye." She wrote to him, then ex-ed out of the chat.

Ingrid shook her head. They were so _close._ She was looking forward to their next chat, when he'd tell her about what was going on. That was one step closer to getting this mess solved.

She walked over to the Vandal's room, and entered. Vallejo and Wayne were talking to themselves.

"Seems kind of strange, doesn't it?" Wayne asked.

"Well, yes. Do we want to trust this guy though?" Vallejo asked in return. Wayne looked at him, and Vallejo explained. "Well, if he really knows a lot about this Shard… then maybe it's just this Shard guy who's trying to throw us off his trail. I'm not sure we can put our faith in him." Vallejo frowned.

"Come on." Wayne said. "We have to give him a chance. I say we give him a chance. And… he's already given us information we didn' know. They're related. He might slip up again, if he's not on our side." Wayne turned his attention to the girl in black on the other side of the questioning room.

"So…" Ingrid sat down in front of the Vandal. "What's your name?"

The boy shrugged. "It's Arc." He told her. She grabbed up his file and read off in her head. _Ark. Seventh grade. Eye color grey. Hair color black. 5'3". Previous offences: Vandalizing (2), stealing (1), shipments (4)… this is pretty meager stuff. I wonder…_ "I was wondering if you could get me a bit more off my time. I've got things after school." He explained.

"That depends on the information." The boy sat back in his chair.

"Ok. It is pretty interesting. I'm not sure you can use it, though." He told her.

"So what've you got?" she asked him, listening.

"Well, a chalk shipment…"

"What day?"

"Tuesday."

"Next week then? Where?" she pulled out a pad of paper and a pen.

"Actually, this Tuesday."

She stared. "You do realise it's Thursday today."

"Yeah. That's what makes this so interesting." Arc told her.

"I'm listening." Ingrid leaned in, not wanting to miss this.

"You see, my friend was hired to help unload the shipment. Guess what they found?"

"What?" ingrid asked. The black haired boy looked off into space, and his face resembled a slightly horrified look. Ingrid was frightened by it.

"I just don't get it!" he told her. "How…"

"Out with it!" Ingrid was dying with suspense. The boy looked at her sadly.

"When we got there, we found it." He said.

"The entire shipment… stolen."


	8. The Reasons We Falter

Ch. 8

**The Reasons We Falter**

We-ell… That certainly took forever to bring up. Sorry if this chapter's a bit choppy. Between my computer being down, being grounded, and being kicked off the site for a short period of time (why? Dunno.) I managed to leave this story unupdated for an impossibly long time. Finally I got off my lazy butt and wrote a few chapters.

That's right, I said a few. As in more than one. _And_ I completely outlined the rest of the story, complete with ending chapter. However! Because of my recent clashings with I have decided to wait on updating those chapters. Check back in about 2 weeks, and if all goes right then I will post the next chapter, and so on. This story WILL get done. (Boo yah, who's ya daddy? or Mother… cousin… girl… acquaintance…. whatever? Uh-huh uh-huh uh-huh! More chapters! Oh ye-ah!) So I hope you appreciate this.

Oh, and about last chapter, I think of chalk boosting/shipments as getting it illigally and selling it 'unerground'… and when ingrid was talking with roc, when he said "can I call you 'grid?" it's in your screenname, Ingrid, oh wait, nevermind, is this Ingrid?" Ingrid's screenname was sort of cut off, it was supposed to have an underscore between the n and the g, making it "In-grid" get it, in. grid.? So, that's what went wrong. Oh, and in response to a question, Brianna ('Rian')'s hair is brown, not blonde. Sorry for the mix-up.

On with the story!

* * *

_Note: A disturbing new study finds that I don't—and have never—owned Fillmore. _

* * *

"_Stolen?"_ Ingrid asked, shocked. "Who would steal from stealers?" 

Arc was suddenly very afraid of Ingrid. She did look quite formidable, towering over him like that. "Uh… I dunno… but they did it. I'm not lying." He said quickly, trying to avoid her wrath. "I Really, Really, don't know." He cringed.

Ingrid quieted herself down. Deep in thought, she nearly forgot to tell Arc to stay where he was before she left the room. She was confronted by a puzzled Wayne and a curious Vallejo. "What do you think about this?" her boss asked. Ingrid simply shrugged and shook her head, still thinking. "What about you, Ligget?"

"I think…" Wayne said slowly, speaking his thoughts as they came to his mind. "I think that maybe it means… that these criminals are either double dealing… or… it shows that… they are on a lower side of the crime."

Vallejo looked at him for a long moment. "I don't get you." Vallejo said finally.

Ingrid seemed to realize it, though. "You mean… Yes…" Ingrid frowned. "Thieves… Fillmore told me that when they were stealing things or shipping things illegally, they would guard them extra carefully because they didn't want to get caught. They guard what they've taken very closely."

"So what's that mean for us?" Vallejo looked worried.

"It means that we're chasing either thieves or geniuses. If they can steal from thieves, who guard things more closely than we ever could, we're going to have to be extremely careful from now on." Wayne sighed. "You know, I came up here for a good time and perhaps some relaxation." He whined playfully.

Ingrid smirked. "Well, maybe after this we'll play cards or something."

* * *

Frank stalked down the hallways, frowning in concentration. He was currently trying to solve the enigma that he considered even more confusing than the recent stealers from X: the puzzle that was his own teacher. _I mean, who in their right mind would even THINK to give so much homework? She seriously has to be an alien or something…' _he pondered as he made his way down the hallway. 

"Frank?" Ingrid asked, surprised. The older child's head snapped up at his name. He turned, looking for the source of the sound. When his eyes fell on Ingrid, who was standing in the doorway of the headquarters, he smiled.

"Oh, hello, Ingrid. Didn't see you there…" he said.

Ingrid smiled back. "What are you doing here so late?" she asked him, Beckoning him to come inside the headquarters. He took the tacit suggestion gratefully.

Frank held up a folder and textbook he was carrying. "Left these here. It's due tomorrow, actually, so I needed to get it." he told her, and she smirked. "What? Don't look at me like that, just because YOU've never forgotten anything like this doesn't mean I don't!" he stopped. "…periodically…"

Ingrid laughed. "No, I can't really say that I do that often." She informed him.

"I'd imagine not." He replied, sipping a soda she hadn't realized was in his hands. He stood at the head of a random desk and glanced curiously at some papers before him, on the counter. "So how goes the case?" he asked, his eyes on the random sheets of paper displayed on the desk.

"Still in the dumps, really." She sighed as Frank pushed one of the papers aside to see under it, taking a drink of his a Mountain Dew. "That's rather unhealthy for you, by the way." She informed him, motioning to the carbonated soda in his hand.

Frank frowned. "Bah. _I_ have to stay up until I finish this stupid assignment, you realize…" he took another sip.

Ingrid nodded, waving to an officer who was leaving. "Anyway, I guess the case is going a little better, in retrospect. We got an anonymous tip about who exactly was stealing the things…" she said absently.

"Really! Who?" Frank asked. Even in the harsh light of the school's fluorescent bulbs didn't disguise the motion of his eyes going wide.

"A gang…" she said, lost in thought.

At this, Frank stopped trying to read what was before him. He blinked at her, unmoving. Ingrid had been quietly thinkingfor some time before she'd realized he'd stopped, and she looked back at him in confusion. She could see his face looked puzzled, even shocked. "Hm…" he mumbled, frowning. Finally, he shrugged and began fiddling with the papers again, mumbling to himself. "A gang. Ok, whatever. It fits… I guess… a lot better than anything else would…" he muttered, putting the soda he carried to his lips.

"Yeah. We were kind of lucky. This guy—he said to call him rock—said it was the same criminals from the last crime spree in X. Shard or something…"

At this, Frank spit out his soda, coughing violently. Ingrid was taken aback; what had she said? Frank leaned over, bracing himself on a table and hitting his chest. After a moment, he looked up, still sputtering a bit. "That wasn't… funny… Ingrid…" he struggled, trying not to cough.

"I wasn't joking." Ingrid insisted shifting her weight to glare at him. "We got an anonymous tip that Shard was the one behind all the recent-!" at this new information, Frank doubled over and started coughing again. Ingrid looked at him with worried eyes, thinking that it wasn't healthy for someone to cough as long as he was, part of her wondering if she should escort him to the nurse's office, another part of her wondering if it was even open this late.

Finally Frank got his coughing slightly under control. He moved away from the desk and sat down in a nearby chair, dazed. "Water…" he croaked. Ingrid picked up the soda he'd set down on the ground and handed it to him.

"(cough, cough) What do you **mean,** (cough) **_shard!_** (cough)" he struggled between gasps. He leaned over and spat the rest of his drink out into the wastebasket, coughing. "There's no- (cough) way that it's- (cough)" she didn't hear the rest as he began coughing again. Ingrid stood, feeling a bit helpless and _extremely_ confused. Trying to overcome her confusion, she shook her head and took a stronger tone of voice.

"Frank, what are you talking about? What do you mean it can't be them? Who are they?"

"_Let me tell you something, Ingrid."_ Frank said, his voice dangerously cool despite his coughing fit. He'd managed to stand again, and was now glaring at Ingrid. "_Shard _is a gang, but not just any gang. You either have a miscount _or_ _the_ _wrong person."_ He clenched his fists, trying to keep his anger and coughing under control.

"Will you make some SENSE already!" she asked loudly in frustration.

The headquarters' door opened suddenly, and both kids looked at it. A bewildered Wayne stood in the doorway. "Ingrid?" he asked. "_Frank?_ What are you doing here? And why are you shouting?"

"Ask _him,_ I don't know!" the green eyed girl growled, motioning to Frank. "He's not making a _word_ of sense."

Wayne looked at the profiler to hear his side of the story. Frank looked at him square in the eye. "Something's wrong with your case." He told him flatly.

Wayne hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, closing the door with a sound Thud. Frank walked swiftly past him and went strait to a file cabinet in the corner. Opening it, he leafed through the contents. "No, no, no, no, no…" he muttered to himself.

"Ingrid?" Wayne asked. Vallejo also looked to her, frowning. He came in from the evidence room, apparently ready to leave.

"What's this…?" he began.

The girl could only shrug. "I met him in the hallway, invited him in. I was telling him about the case. When I mentioned shard, the gang, he just… well…" she motioned to him, and he let out an 'aha!', pulling out what looked like a newspaper clipping. "Don't ask me. He didn't tell me what was going on either."

"Doesn't look like we're gonna wait long for the answer, though." Vallejo commented as his friend made his way back to them.

Frank held the paper in front of Vallejo's face. "You see?" he asked, and Vallejo set his bag down on the ground and leaned in for a closer look.

The news paper was from the previous day, showing the heist at the collection convention. It included a picture of Ingrid being pulled up from the rubble of boxes. Seeing this, Ingrid frowned and stuck her tongue out at Frank. "No need to rub it in." she growled.

"See what?" Vallejo asked. "I see the newspaper from yesterday…"

Frank sighed and rolled his eyes. "Do you people have ANY idea who shard is!" he asked, exasperated. When all three of them shook their heads in a 'no', he resisted the urge to hit himself. Repeatedly. Sighing, he sat down at a nearby desk, unfolding the paper and reading the inside. Sitting back after a moment, (confident that he hadn't missed anything,) he looked the officers square in the eye.

"Sit down. Let me tell you a story." He ordered them. Wayne, completely lost, tried to sit on the floor right in front of him. Vallejo scurried around for a chair. Smirking, Ingrid leaned on the desk, watching Frank's amused look. Vallejo wasn't used to being ordered around, and Frank was probably one of the only people who were able to get away with it. Wayne was just lost. Sighing again, Frank hid his head in his hands and let the other two regain their senses.

After a moment Vallejo decided to just stand where he was. Frank looked at him with a resigned scowl on his face. Taking a deep breath he began his story.

"Two years ago, they say, a seventh grader fell into the shadows. The dark side of the law. He was a notorious villain- no one could catch him at anything. He could manipulate anyone to do whatever he wanted them to do, simply by ordering it to be done." He looked at Ingrid. "Someone with power, and immense power at that. Rumor has it this person started a gang- named it after himself, he did."

"He had many followers. Not one of them a fool. By controlling their movements, he corrupted the student council, made away with several crimes to get even more people under his control, and then made himself—and the gang—a shrine. Somewhere in the school here."

Ingrid raised an eyebrow. "A shrine? Surely we would have found it." she commented skeptically.

"That's just it, though." Frank shook his head. "He has hundreds of people under his influence, and between them they hid the shrine somewhere. He formed a gang out of his followers—shard, as you know—and then he became an eighth grader." He scowled at Vallejo. "Seriously my amigo, it was all over the school! Seventh grade, don't you remember? If I had known that Shard was the one from last year, though… I would've made sure you knew…"

"But how does that connect with the papers?" Ingrid asked.

"You see," Frank rolled his eyes. "Shard was a VERY organized gang, and it says here that they stole 2 things… one of them apparently being 'unscheduled'. Why was it unscheduled? Shard was never caught, and besides your anonymous tip, there doesn't seem to be anyone who has predicted their actions!"

Wayne twitched as he realized something. "So you're saying that it was SHARD who put the tip out?"

"I'm saying Shard would never have made such a slip."

"What's with the past tense?" Ingrid sighed. Then the idea hit her. "Oh. I see. It was two years ago… and a SEVENTH grader. I think I get it…"

"Whoever it is has graduated by now." Frank finished her thought. "Now is a freshman in high school."

Vallejo shrugged. "Well, couldn't it have been taken over by another? Emily took over the red robins when the leader graduated as well, and was inviting Ingrid to do the same. It's not unreasonable."

"Shard wouldn't have made such a slip, and neither would have a new leader." Frank reassured himself.

Ingrid frowned and put a finger to her lip, thinking. "But… what if it was… Rock? What if it was Rock who told us about the upcoming theft?" she wondered aloud. "He was part of their gang before, and was able to reach us…" at this, Frank's face went white.

"When was this?" he demanded suddenly.

"Just a few minutes ago. We got an E-mail. I told you that earlier…"

"Could still be a spy, someone giving you false information, or leading you to believe it's Shard to throw you off their tracks! Unless he said something else…"

"About another gang called Dragon… does that mean anything to you?"

Frank paused, suddenly unsure. "D… dragon?" he inquired to the air. He slowly sat back in his chair, a puzzled look on his face deepening every second. "But they wouldn't mention Dragon because only Shard-!… unless someone did their homework… but then there are many more things to point to…" he babbled incoherently. After a minute of doing so, he frowned and snatched up the paper again. Silently he studied it, from the rubble to the two officers in the photo, to the displays in the background. "You know, it might be possible…" he said finally.

Ingrid sat back in her chair smugly. "See, I told you we could trust him." She almost laughed at Vallejo. The boy growled and was just about to retaliate when Frank cut in again.

"But that means we have another problem."

Wayne blinked. "Problem. Right. What could be the problem? We have a suspect… well, as far as one goes, anyway…"

Sighing, Frank pushed himself out of the chair and paced. "I'm still standing by my thought of 'he would never make such a mistake.' But… that means that you were right as well. He must have put the tip out, or someone close to him. He WANTED the safety patrol there."

The three listening were taken aback. Their faces clearly showed their shock. "What? WHY would any one want that? They're trying to get away with something, right! What would they have to gain!"

Frank was silent. He looked paced over to the window and stopped, taking a deep breath before finally answering. "Influence." He stated calmly. "Influence over the safety patrol. Maybe a show of force, saying he can or does work under the safety patrol's noses… or to scare one away…"

"Like we're ever going to get off his tail because we didn't catch him the first time!" Ingrid sighed.

"I'm not talking about him getting away," Frank sighed. "I'm talking about you getting pummeled with those boxes."

Ingrid frowned. "And hello? I'm still here!"

"No, you misunderstand." Frank glared at her. "_To scare one away_. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

Ingrid looked down at her shoes, trying to piece things together. When it didn't come to her, she looked at Wayne and Vallejo, but they apparently didn't understand it either. Exasperated, Frank growled. "Don't you see? The timeframe is what's important! When this all happened… It was right before Fillmore Quit!

* * *

A/N: hey, so this is what it's like to put end notes! Somehow, I thought it would be more rewarding than this… oh well. So, yes, you heard me right. I am not only dead, and this story is not only still going, but this story's going to have nine chapters by the end of the month. There's no set date for it, actually, so it gives me time to look it over, but it will be up within the month, so sit tight. (This doesn't give you an excuse not to review, though. Click it! it's in the lower left hand corner of your screen, see there?) 

Oh, and one more thing. I've been thinking about another story, here's the summary;

_Wayne Ligget has a problem. He's been assigned to an impossible case, and it aint going anywhere. To make things worse, the novice officer thinks he's found a solution; only, it's in one of X middle school's most infamous delinquents… _

Does it sound worth writing? I'm still in the planning stages, but if you think it's a good idea (review, yes/no) then I might actually proceed with it. It's basically my idea of how the whole Wayne-Fillmore thing got started. In my mind, it doesn't quite go as smoothly as they explain it in the show. But, in order to elaborate on that, you'll have to read my story, so HA! The only downside I see to this is that there's no Ingrid… oh well. Anyway, see you soon!


	9. A Target Chosen

Alrighty, so I lied! big deal. I was only three days off of my 'due date'. I'm going on vacation, but will try to get the chapter ten up before school starts up again. whoopee. But I do have good news for you! by next chapter, All the main characters (with the exeption of two, for an obvious reason,) will have been introduced. Yay! took me long enough, eh? after that, the story will begin to end. if that makes any sense.  
Which it doesnt.  
So read and review! I'll be waiting!

* * *

_Note: Fillmore this, Fillmore that. Why doesn't anyone talk about Ingrid? I mean… um… I don't own Fillmore. _

* * *

Ch. 9 

**A Target Chosen**

"Yes, it looks like it was possible… the way you explained it…"

It was 9:36 in the morning. Tehama and Ingrid were studying the layout of the cafeteria, and the Collection convention. Tehama was measuring the possibility that the crates that fell on Ingrid were meant specifically for anyone guarding the toy collector's stall. So far, it proved extremely probable.

Sighing, Ingrid sat and glared at the paper, one hand propping her chin up. She frowned at the document as thoughts ran through her head; complex mathematical formulas, radius structures, probability ratios, and what might have happened if Fillmore hadn't told her to move. She was growing more and more frustrated by the second.

"But…" Tehama started again. "The question is why? Why would they just be aiming at a single officer?" she asked Ingrid.

"Because Frank says that Fillmore was being threatened with OUR safety, not his. And this was just to prove they'd follow through with their plans." She replied in a monotone voice.

"Frank? When was this?" Tehama asked. She hadn't realized Fillmore was in the equation as well, but didn't want to bring that up.

"Last night." Ingrid sighed.

Tehama shook her head. "But why would they not attack earlier, just at the beginning, or something… if all they wanted to do was scare him?"

"Frank said that the stealers wanted us to get bored, and throw us off guard so we wouldn't react as quickly when they attacked. Something about them getting away with it better." Ingrid explained. She shifted and began to scoot the paper back and forth on the desktop, trying to relieve some of her frustration.

Tehama saw this and almost sighed. What could she tell her friend? Thinking, she stood from her chair and stretched. "Well," Tehama said, choosing her words carefully. "Now that we know WHY Fillmore quit, I suppose all we have to do is get rid of that element to make him come back. Right?" she asked. "I mean, he can't stay away forever."

Ingrid stopped toying with the paper and looked up to Tehama. Her eyes were dark from a restless night's sleep. She'd been up all night thinking about… well, everything. But she now realized that Karen was right. Her lips absently formed a small smile. "Well, I suppose you're right." Ingrid agreed. "No use worrying about it now."

Tehama Smiled as well, relieved. "Good. I guess I should go do that filing thing Vallejo wanted me to do. Why's it so hectic around here today, anyway?" she asked to no one in particular, wandering off.

Ingrid also started putting the diagrams of the cafeteria back into the folder. _'I wonder what I need to do… I'm forgetting something…'_ Ingrid thought to herself. She placed the file at the corner of her desk, placing her new gargoyle statue on top of it. _'Though Karen's right. I wonder why everyone's acting up today?' _

The office was buzzing. Karen Tehama was now busying herself with the file cabinet, and many novice officers were hauling statistics to their desks and filing them electronically. Vallejo was giving everyone assignments and handing out folders, and checking his watch from time to time.

Danny and Wayne were out of the office; there had been another theft during the night. Danny was taking pictures of the crime scene and Wayne was busy looking for evidence and suspects. Frank had a big report due today for class, so he wasn't even present.

"Yo, Third!" Vallejo approached the girl's desk. "So, what's going on?" he asked.

"Oh, Tehama and I were just talking. We decided that Frank was right. It was certainly possible to plan something like that." She said, making Vallejo groan. He rubbed his temples and sighed. By the look on his face, Ingrid guessed that he hadn't gotten much sleep either. "Rough night?" she asked playfully.

"You can't imagine." He replied. "Not only did I worry about the case all night, but my neighbor's dog somehow managed to sneak into our house and get stuck in our attic, and we were dealing with that all night too." Ingrid winced. "Oh, and by the way, you never finished this last night." Vallejo handed her three files, and Ingrid took them. Opening the first one, she scanned it quickly. "It's the fingerprint finder program, you know, from the fingerprint we found yesterday? Only it showed up as three people."

"Three people!" Ingrid asked.

"Well, that's a case YOU have to figure out." Vallejo sighed. "I'm going back to my office before Folsom demands we have another little 'chat.'" He informed her, stalking away.

Curious, Ingrid opened all three files and set them on her desk. "Alright, we have to start somewhere." She mumbled to herself, and turned her computer on. After it loaded, she turned to the school's online registration and typed in GARETH CALLAWAY, the first name she saw.

When the page loaded, Ingrid looked up to see an 'Error' sign on the computer. She frowned, trying to refresh, but got the same result. She scanned the paper from the file, frowning. _"That's _odd…" she said aloud.

"What's odd?" Wayne asked, walking to her desk.

"Done with the questioning?" Ingrid asked.

"As if." Wayne replied. "There's a line of criminals from OTHER crimes today so long that I'd be questioning them tomorrow anyway! Vandals, stealers, and that weird guy who tried to bring an alligator to school…" he shuddered. "Why's everyone choosing to break the law today?" he asked.

"No clue." Ingrid said, smirking.

"Well, what's odd?" Ligget repeated, picking up a file.

"See, these are the matches to the fingerprint we found yesterday." She pointed to the files.

"Yeah, but the fingerprint wasn't complete, so two or three matches isn't unusual." He informed her.

"No, it's not unusual, but this is." She pointed to her screen. "I entered the guy's name into the computer to see if he was in school today, and I'm not even getting a file." She moaned.

Wayne leaned over and looked at the file. "Well, of course you aren't!" he exclaimed, pointing to it. "He was a student here five years ago… that's before we had online registration." He said.

Ingrid looked to where he was pointing and resisted the urge to hit herself. "Ok, ok… let's try…" she looked at the second file and began typing in her name, ANDREA RUTHFORD. Ping! Her computer came up with a file, showing her past absences, tardies, and that she was in school today. "Hm, she doesn't seem to like staying in school very much…" Ingrid said, noting that she had nine different absences this week.

"Want me to help you with that?" Wayne asked.

"No, I'll do fine. Maybe you can help me later, when I go to question them about what they were doing in the vent system." She told him, jotting down the girl's schedule on a notepad.

"Please?" Wayne begged.

Ingrid raised an eyebrow at him, and was about to answer before Danny came up behind him. "Hey! Would you like to help me practice my scowl? I have to know how to scowl if I'm going to be a bad boy."

Wayne turned to give Ingrid puppy dog eyes, but she just shook her head. "Sorry, can't help you there." She told him. "Besides, O'Farrell is right, every bad boy needs a scowl." At that, Danny's face lit up, and he started trying to drag Wayne away. The boy cringed and glared at Ingrid.

"You're evil, you know that?" Wayne stated flatly.

* * *

"So what's the deal, Ingrid?" Vallejo inquired. Tehama and Anza, nearby, dropped what they were doing to join the two momentarily. 

Ingrid slapped the files down, all three of them a bit thicker than when she had first received them. "Three files, incomplete fingerprint, inconclusive data." She rattled off before opening the first file. "This is Gareth Callaway. As Wayne pointed out, he graduated from X middle school five years ago, before 'shard' ever even came up."

"Which removes him from the suspect list." Anza finished.

"Right. So we have two others." She opened the second file.

Tehama reached over and turned the file so that she could read it. "Andrea Ruthford." Karen read aloud. "Hey, she's that a_nnoying_ girl who chews gum behind me all through second period!" she recalled with sarcasm and disgust.

Ingrid raised an eyebrow. "Second period?" She asked.

"Advanced Placement chemistry." Karen provided. "It's helpful with the forensics that I do here… but it's not exactly my favorite class. At least, not anymore. The teacher, Mr. Valdemar, totally gives me the creeps!" Tehama sighed. "That, and I sit in front of the most annoying people ever."

Ingrid shrugged. "Well, whatever the case, we should question her first. She should be eating lunch next period… if she doesn't skip, that is." Ingrid sighed and opened the third, final file. "Last but not least, Amelia Shanks. Also in AP chemistry, and there's not a scar on her record."

Vallejo looked at the girl's picture; light green tee shirt, straight brown hair, grey eyes. "Could we catch her after school, you think?"

"No." Ingrid shook her head. "She doesn't appear to have any extra curricular activities. And besides the chemistry class, all her classes are average, grades are average, and doesn't have any problems with her teachers. She's never even forgotten an assignment."

"She seems… perfectly imperfect." Karen rolled her eyes. "Like someone trying to stay out of the spotlight."

"I might have to pull her out of class." Ingrid sighed. "But we'll cross that road when we come to it. Right now it's probably best to focus on catching Ms. Ruthford at lunch." She paused. "I guess I should really let Wayne come along, too."

Ingrid's boss blinked. "LET him come along?" he asked, surprised.

The black haired girl glanced over quickly to O'Farrell's desk, and Vallejo followed her gaze. He suddenly realized what the girl had meant.

"So, which scowl was better? The one where I narrowed my eyes more, or slouched more?" Danny asked.

"Honestly?" Wayne asked in a tired, resigned voice. "They didn't look any different than the last eight."

"What about this one, then?" Danny raised an eyebrow and scowled again.

Vallejo turned back to Ingrid. "Take him." He ordered her.

"Yes sir." She agreed with a smirk.

* * *

"_Thank you!" _Wayne practically screamed to Ingrid once they were out of earshot of the headquarters. "God, I forgot how completely weird he can be sometimes! Seriously, what's with this whole 'bad boy' makeover thing? Does this happen a lot?" 

Ingrid shrugged. "Depending on what you mean. He sort of goes through phases… one time he was asking everyone if they could take a picture of his butt because he wasn't sure it existed…" Wayne winced. "But actually, I think this 'phase' of his is kinda funny. It really helps liven things up sometimes."

"So what'da I owe ya?" Wayne asked cautiously, changing the subject.

Ingrid looked thoughtful for a moment. "Lunch." She said finally. "Lunch with me and Fillmore, if we ever get around to it."

"Deal." Wayne agreed. He would've shook on it, but they had just entered the bustling cafeteria. Ingrid was busy scanning the line, tables, and other people just standing around the gigantic chaotic room for their girl. Wayne began to look, but every time he looked a different direction, he found himself thinking about how much bigger X middle school was than in his own town. _'How could I have forgotten how big X is? It's huge! HOW many kids go here again?'_

Ingrid's voice snapped Wayne out of his amazed state. "Now where is that girl… ah!" she pointed to an idle group. Sure enough, there was Andrea Ruthford, standing amongst her friends.

Ingrid sized up the girl in front of her. She was on the short side, at least an inch shorter than Ingrid was. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. She wore a tank top and jeans with several rips in them. Ingrid guessed the rips and tears were intentional. The black haired girl watched as Andrea blew a large bubble with her purple gum, snapping it noisily. The safety patroller looked down at the photo of her, just to make sure that she _was _Andrea Ruthford and not someone else. In the picture, the clothes were more sensible and her hair was sitting on her shoulders, but the facial features were the same.

Andrea finally noticed Ingrid watching her. "Yes?" She turned away from the crowd to ask the officer. Her tone was a little stressed and had a slight western accent, but Ingrid also noticed that her expression showed slight annoyance. "What do you want?"

Both Ingrid and Wayne approached, and Wayne let Ingrid do the talking. The green-eyed girl flashed her badge. "Andrea Ruthford?" she said.

"That's my name. Is there a problem?" Andrea demanded, slight worry shown in her eye before she suppressed it.

"We just need to ask you a few questions." Ingrid reassured her. "It's really no big deal."

"Um, excuse me?" Andrea huffed in disbelief. "If you want to question me, then in my book, it seems to be a big deal."

"Well, if you'd rather do it in private, away from here, we'd have no problem with that." Wayne assured her.

Still, Andrea looked skeptical. She was about to answer when another came up to her and tugged on her arm. When she jerked it back, he turned to look at the two officers, suspicion in his eyes. "Andrea?" asked the boy not taking his eyes off Ingrid and Wayne. "Who are they?"

Andrea closed her eyes in frustration, grinding her teeth slightly. "Just officers, Rich. Apparently, I have to talk with them for a bit." She answered her friend.

The boy turned sharply to stare at Andrea. "But Andy… what about Derek? He's expecting…"

"I need to talk to them." Andrea repeated through clenched teeth. "Just… just tell Derek to reschedule or something."

"But-!" the boy began to protest, but then stopped and reconsidered. He blinked and backed off, turning to the lunchroom. "I'll pass the word on." He said grudgingly.

Andrea watched him go. When he vanished into the sea of children eating lunch, she turned back to the officers. "So, about that privacy thing…" she started.

"There's an empty room not too far from here." Ingrid offered. Andrea nodded and they turned away from the lunchroom to head down the hallway. They passed a few kids, but overall the hallway was empty. For some reason, though, Ingrid felt that they were being watched. When they reached an empty room, Wayne opened the door for the girls. Following Andrea into the room, Ingrid saw Wayne glance around the hall quickly. Ingrid blinked, realizing that he felt someone was spying on them as well. She chose to ignore it and turned back to Andrea.

"Sorry about Richard. He considers being on time to everything is, like, the most important thing in the world." She apologized quickly before Ingrid could say anything. She looked over the girl's shoulder to Wayne, watching him close the door behind him. Andrea took a deep breath, starting. "So, what exactly is this all about?"

"Just a few questions." Ingrid sighed. "But first, you know that whole glass issue that happened yesterday? I want to know what you make of it."

"Glass issue?" Andrea asked, frowning. Suddenly she blinked and blushed. "Oh, you mean that vandalism act? I… uh… was late to school that day…" she tucked a strand of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail behind her ear nervously.

"You thought it was vandalism?" Ingrid asked.

"Well, of course! What else could it be?" she replied.

"Lots of things, but I guess everyone's entitled to their own guess and opinion." Wayne told her.

"Alright, I guess it could've been a prank…" Andrea said, thinking out loud. "But what does that have to do with me?"

"Nothing, really. Just wanted your opinion."

"Um… sure. Glad I could help." Andrea said, confused.

Ingrid sighed and opened up Andrea's school record. "Tell me, have you ever been in the Crafter's lab? Beneath the school?" she asked.

Andrea paused. "Um… no," she answered. Then she shook her head. "Wait, yes I have. Just recently I went down there with a friend… he's really into blowing glass. I almost forgot about that. Me and Rich, we went down to get him after school because we were going to see a movie."

"What's his name?" Ingrid asked, raising an eyebrow. Something in the girl's story didn't seem quite right…

"Robert Costlehimer."

"Any relation to Brianna Costlehimer?" Wayne asked.

Andrea blinked at him, surprised. "Sister-brother relationship." She answered. "But how do you know Rian? She's not the friendliest person to… officers like you…"

"We met her when we went down there yesterday." Ingrid replied. "Could you please tell me what you did while you were down in the crafter's lab?"

"Had to wait for bob. He's such a slowpoke…" she sighed. "But we did go into the storage area to see some of his pieces. I'm not really into glass THAT much, but they were kinda cool." She snickered. "A boy working with glass. For some reason, it just doesn't seem right at _all…_"

"Alright, then," Wayne sighed. "How did your fingerprint get on the vent?"

Andrea looked slightly surprised. "Vent?"

Ingrid showed the blonde girl photos of the vent and where her fingerprint was. "Ah, am… um… that's mine? Must've leaned on it or something…" Andrea's voice jumped an octave. "I'm going to get in trouble for being absent minded and putting my bare hand on a vent?" she asked quietly, more to herself than to the officers before her.

Ingrid sighed. "No, probably not. Not unless something in your story doesn't match up, or you admit to being in the vent or something."

"_Being _in the _Vent?_"

"I know, I know, but we have reason to believe that whoever was in the vent was the one that stole all the glass from that area, and stole the stamps and toys at the collection convention…"

"You're confusing me…" The girl sighed, putting a hand to her forehead.

"Do you know an Amelia Shanks?" Ingrid pressed.

"A… Amelia Shanks… No. sorry…"

"That's all right. Do you have any ideas where the glass stolen from the crafter's lab might've gone?" Ingrid asked.

"Stolen from the crafter's lab? You lost me."

Wayne and Ingrid exchanged glances. Finally, Ingrid sighed. "Well, that's all right. You're free to go." She turned to the door, and Wayne opened it. "Oh, but I wanted to ask you a personal question. Do you know about when the mosaics and teak door were put in down in the hallway of the crafter's lab?"

"Last year, apparently. Rich told me that… he goes down there often." Andrea said. "I thought they were pretty, didn't you?" she asked as they re-entered the cafeteria. "Bye!" she said without waiting for an answer. Then she trotted off.

"She must be hungry…" Wayne sighed. "I know I am…"

Shrugging, Ingrid made her way back to the H.Q. "Me too. There's probably some lunch over at the headquarters. There's a fridge." She told him. "What did you think about her?"

Wayne jumped at the change of subject. He'd obviously been thinking about lunch. "Um… what? Oh." He sighed. "You mean Andrea."

"Yes."

"Hm… what do I think about Andrea…" Wayne thought aloud. "Well, she kind of got me off on the wrong foot. I kind of felt like I was missing part of the conversation… like… like…" he searched for the words.

"Like we were being told half the truth?" Ingrid supplied.

Wayne snapped his fingers. "Yeah. That's it!"

Sighing, the green-eyed girl opened the door to headquarters. "Yeah, I thought so too. But it's not like we can arrest her on our suspicions… We'll just have to see if there's a hole in her story."

"A hole in who's story?"

Ingrid looked up and found herself facing Frank, who stood behind Karen at her computer. Tehama looked up at them briefly, then back to the screen. Vallejo, standing behind her as well, came around to greet them. "Any luck? I mean, we're not expecting a full confession or anything, but I'm hoping you got something."

"Andrea Ruthford didn't seem like she was TOO bad…"

"But still bad enough?" Frank smirked. "Or you're saying she was worse?" he laughed.

"You ever met her?" Ingrid asked suspiciously.

"Not a once." He said back.

"She said she must've 'leaned on' the vent… or something… but she seemed real nervous when we asked her about it, so I'm not so sure she DIDN'T do it." Wayne explained. "Ingrid thinks that we weren't getting the full story from her, either."

"But we'll still put her on the report to Folsom, right?" Tehama, from behind them, asked.

Ingrid frowned and went behind her to see what she was doing. "What are you working on?"

"A written report." It wasn't Tehama who answered, but Vallejo. "Folsom called us up today and said that when she calls next, she wants to have a written report, written proof of the REASON she's letting us cut school to go search Fillmore's house. Seems she's got people to answer to as well."

"Of course she does!" Ingrid scoffed as she departed for her desk. "She's got the parents of the kids here at school, she's got the school board and the city breathing down her neck every time something weird happens here… and we know that something weird happens here practically every-!" she stopped short, and the room looked up at her.

"Ingrid?" Frank asked.

"Su-il-en9roc wishes to chat" she read from her monitor.

* * *

Wayne frowned. "Wait… the guy from yesterday? Wouldn't he be skipping school if he's sent you an Instant Message from his home?" he inquired. 

"Well, let's see." Ingrid sat at her desk and pulled out the keyboard. She began typing on it, and talking at the same time under her breath, as she always did. "Hey, aren't you at school?" she typed, hitting enter. There was a moment's delay.

**No, I've got open lunch. I like to go home to eat… I like to be able to EAT my lunch; it's practically indigestible at school.**

There was another break.

**You were doing something? I just figured I'd try to send you a message since I was home anyway. You didn't pick up, though. **

"Yeah…" she began mumbling and typing again. "I was questioning a girl that was a suspect."

**Oh, I hope you got something good out of it. Um… so, where was I?**

"Last night you just finished telling us about the vandalizing."

**Just finished, huh? Oh yeah, I remember. Let's see... I'm guessing you want to know who shard is… right?**

"If you could…"

**Well, I really can't. See, I'm not sure you've figured this out or not, but Shard supposedly graduated last year. I really wasn't expecting anything like this to even happen. **

"Not even a hint, huh?"

**If it's a hint you want, it's a hint you'll get. I may not know who's behind this year's problems… frankly, I can't even tell if it's copycat or if he handed the position down… but I know who the first Shard was. **

"You do?"

**As I said, I was in the inner circle.**

"Right. I sort of forgot about that…"

**His name was Neal Nonpareil Gemstone. He's the founder of the Shard gang. He started it when he was a seventh grader, and it continued to his eighth grade year, when I was drafted. Stories say that he created a shrine too, but I've never been shown that. I was just assigned to steal things for him. **

"Steal things for him?"

**I'm over that now. I sort of got caught one day… it wasn't pretty, got into a lot of trouble, got grounded for several months… but I eventually stopped stealing things. Back then it was a very high paying job, and even doing the work of someone else… He hired me personally to steal the entire kitchen. Kind of weird sounding, but with the men he gave me to help, I did it… payed a lot better than some other jobs I could've done alone. **

"I see. So that's how you know so much about this."

**That's how I know why people would be in a gang. I know so much about this because I had friends in the gang as well. Haven't seen them for a year almost… **

"Oh."

**Please don't ask about them.**

"I understand." Ingrid replied. "Tell me more about Neal."

**He's a freshman at Y high school now. His house isn't too far from there. It's halfway between his high school and X. He's slick, and he knows how to push people's buttons. If you go to meet him, don't let him get under your skin.**

"Right." Ingrid paused. "But what about that other gang, Dragon? You mentioned it last night."

**I don't really know a lot about dragon. Didn't think you'd want to know that… they're pretty good guys. I don't even know their leader… Know the guy's called DL or something… but you shouldn't need to know that. If you want to know… **

There was a pause. "Yes… it would be nice to know about them." Ingrid typed. "I know it's asking a lot… but could you get some more information on them for us?"

Another pause. Ingrid could see he was struggling with the concept.

**Not sure…**

**But I could try… **

Ingrid sighed in relief. "Great! That's wonderful news. I know you're sticking your neck out for this. I'm really grateful." Ingrid hesitated. "You sure you can do this?"

**I know just the person to ask. No worries. **

"Super. You'd best be getting back to school, though. Lunch is almost done."

…

**Shoot! I forgot! School! Mom's gonna kill me… Bye!**

With a smirk, Ingrid ended the program and slid the keyboard into resting position, giving herself more writing room on her desk.

"So he's not lying, huh?"

Ingrid spun in her chair. She hadn't realized it at the time, but she'd attracted three viewers; Wayne, Vallejo, and Frank who had spoken. "What do you mean?"

"If he was from Shard, he wouldn't have mentioned the previous leader. It could get him into serious trouble, considering that the previous leader made the new shard leader in the first place." He sighed. "Meaning the first 'shard' is more powerful than this one."

"Unless it's a trap." Wayne put in.

Frank shook his head. "No, he wouldn't have mentioned the shrine, then, or the friends. That's more honest than someone of shard's position would be. Plus, he'd be completely ratting out the Dragon gang, if he thought we could do something about it. The dragon gang is in shard's way, right?" he thought aloud as the three made their way to their own desks.

"Genuine, hm?" Ingrid asked softly to no one in particular. She sighed and propped up her chin with one hand.

_**But I could try…**_

_**Please don't ask about them…**_

_**I know just the person to ask. No worries.**_

Suddenly, Ingrid felt sad. "Yeah…" she sighed. "No worries…"

At that moment, not for the first time that day, Ingrid felt eyes on her. She looked up hastily and out the window, where her eyes met immediately with a tall boy's. He seemed to be about twelve. His eyes were green like hers, and his hair was spiky and brown. For some reason, Ingrid faintly remembered meeting him somewhere before, but she just couldn't put a name to the face at the moment. Instead of looking away guiltily, the boy outside just cocked his head when he noticed Ingrid staring back at him. He blinked twice, intrigued, and then calmly turned away, probably towards class. Ingrid frowned, still struggling with the name, but she just sighed when nothing came.

_I guess his name must not be very important, if I can't remember it…_ Ingrid sighed. The girl turned back to her desk, busying herself with work, as the boy walked away.

* * *

The boy didn't go to class. It wasn't because he hated class, or cut school regularly, but right now, he was in a hurry to get somewhere. 

Just moments before, he'd seen Officer Ingrid Third standing at the window. He could've sworn her face looked worried, and puzzled at the same time. Earlier, the boy had been sure he'd seen her with Andrea Ruthford. Not really a good thing, but it hadn't looked like they were together, and he hadn't actually seen them talking, so maybe it was just coincidence. It just struck him as odd. She'd also been on the computer, something else odd. From what he remembered about the girl, she had photographic memory, and was only on the computer when looking at the news or when she was checking something that she couldn't find in a book.

But no. He hadn't seen either of those things on her monitor. It was more moving text… something like a chat room, or perhaps an IM. Could she be talking with…? No, he wouldn't cut class like that. Then again, he wasn't even so sure it WAS a chat room. It had been from pretty far away.

The boy sank deep into his thoughts as he went back inside and found his locker. Opening it, he took out a large black book with a lock on it, and began to jot down the facts of what he'd seen. Writing down suspicious things had become a habit of his, ever since he'd met the Master. Nowdays, before he ever met with the Master, he'd always check anything and everything. It wasn't a good thing to forget to mention something to Him.

Finally the boy snapped the 'diary' shut. Placing it back into his locker, he noticed yet ANOTHER odd thing… a note. Hanging from the slots of his locker door. Not unusual… but what _was _unusual was the time of day. He almost never received these notes during the day, they'd always come right before he'd go home at 7:30, after his 'extra-curricular activities'. Or so he called them.

Frowning, he reached up and snatched the note. He didn't unfold it right then and there; he stuffed it into his pocket and tapped his locker door into the proper place. After that, he made his way to the boys bathroom, where he entered a stall. There, he read the note. Twice. _What was that? A meeting? Now!_ The boy thought with great surprise. _Now? Why? How? Oh god, did something happen? No, wait. Not me… _the boy blinked his bright green eyes.

_Andrea Ruthford…So I was right after all… _

After one more quick reading, the boy rolled it up, tore it into three pieces, and flushed it down the toilet. He pushed the door open and briskly made his way down the hallway, barely noticing the tardy bell ring right above him. He strode down to the science hallway, ignoring the few kids left in the hallway still. Closing his eyes, he recalled the number inscribed on the note. Room 112A.

He pushed the door open to reveal the AP Science room, where Mr. Valdemar always taught. Very interesting course… well, at least, he thought so. There was no one in the room, since AP Science was only second, third, and last period of the day. Therefore, the room was quite convenient for meetings. Still, in broad daylight?

There was a creaking sound in the corner of the room that snapped the boy back to his senses. He turned around and shut the door, locking it behind him and talking. "Are you nuts, sir? No offence, but in the middle of the day, we're likely to get caught…"

"I don't care, Jason." The Master's cold voice flooded the room. The master walked into plain view, and the boy quickly glanced over at the window behind Mr. Valdemar's desk. The curtains had been drawn, thankfully. Instead of seeing what his follower was looking at, the Master continued. "This is a much more pressing matter, it needs to be dealt with NOW."

The green-eyed boy paused from his protest. "What is it, sir?" he asked warily.

Even from clear across the room, the boy could see the Master's eyes lock onto him. "Those safety patrollers are sticking their noses where they don't belong." He informed the green-eyed boy coolly. "We need to show them that Shard is boss. You'll take care of this, won't you?"

There was a brief silence as the boy took this all in. at last he nodded.

"Yes sir. I understand."


	10. A Guardian Dragon

**The more I work on this story, the more I hate where it seems to be going. I WILL finish it, and quickly (It will NOT be a long, drawn out pain for me…) but I still don't like how it's going. I just wrote five scenes, three of which I Loathe to all hell's eternity, and one which I dislike. :Slams head on keyboard: anyhoo, I wrote this, re-wrote this, re-re-wrote this, and then just gave up. Tell me what you think of this chapter, but I think it's god awful. Have fun reading! **

* * *

_Note: If you haven't figured it out yet, by the last several chapters, I'll say it again. I don't own Fillmore!_

* * *

**Ch. 10 A Guardian Dragon**

Overhead, the school bell rang. Kids started pouring out of their classes, heading home after the long day at school, or heading towards their extracurricular classes. In the locker room, the color guard, tennis team, and the football team all assembled for practice. Chess club and theatre opened their doors to their members, and the 'junior chefs of tomorrow' held their weekly meeting in the cafeteria.

Ingrid and Wayne stood out of the way of the children. They marveled at the activity going on around them, while trying not to be swept away by the stampede of children.

"I remember it being busy after school, but this is ridiculous." Wayne sighed, eyeing a group as they passed. "We can't even get across the hallway. What if we're trampled?"

Ingrid sighed too. "Looks like we're not going to catch up with Amelia Shanks today, Wayne. Shall we head back?" she asked, but when she looked up, Wayne was concentrating on the opposite side of the hallway. "Wayne?"

"Look, it's Fillmore." The boy pointed.

Sure enough, there was the African American boy standing at his locker. He was tugging at the latch, trying to get the locker door to open. It seemed jammed. When he finally kicked it, out of frustration, the locker door popped open.

"I can count the number of times I've seen him at his locker on one hand," Ingrid smirked, looking down. "Actually, I didn't think he even HAD a locker. Did you?"

Wayne grinned. "No, he keeps everything at his desk…" suddenly, Wayne saw his friend's face knit in a frown.

Fillmore had picked up a couple of books and put them into his backpack, but before he shut his locker door, a note caught his eye. He picked it up carefully, inspecting the envelope. Even from across the hall, Ingrid could see there was a design sketched on the paper.

"You don't think it's another threat, do you?" she asked Wayne quietly.

"I'm not sure," the boy answered slowly. "Let's watch."

Fillmore turned the envelope over again, his scowl replaced by a curious look. "Hm…" he murmured, cracking the paper open. Carefully, he tipped the contents onto his hand. It was a claw necklace, a piece of paper, and something else. Fillmore stashed the envelope in his bag and inspected the claw necklace, finally stuffing it and the mystery item into his pocket. He turned to the sheet of paper.

Across the hall, Ingrid could see her former partner's face fill with curiosity. It was obvious he didn't think much of the letter, and it obviously wasn't threatening. Still… she couldn't help but worry.

Fillmore scanned the letter and shoved it into his pocket, along with the claw necklace. He closed his locker door, and then he turned to walk down the hallway.

"Come on, Ingrid. Let's follow." Wayne went after the boy, keeping a safe distance behind him.

Ingrid jogged to keep up. They kept well behind Cornelius, and there were plenty of children in the hallway to hide them. When they turned the corner, the group of children around them began to thin out, so they slowed even more.

Finally, Fillmore approached a door. Immediately, Wayne pulled Ingrid into a nearby classroom to watch. Fillmore glanced down both hallways, and then pulled an object from his pocket. It was a key and the claw necklace. Carefully, he inserted the key and opened the door.

"Great," Ingrid sighed as Fillmore went in. "Now how are we supposed to watch him?" she asked. Wayne looked around. Suddenly he grinned and pointed upwards.

"What?" Ingrid asked, looking to where he was pointing. "The vents? Good idea."

The boy grinned. "Come on, I'll give you a boost."

Once in the vent, Ingrid found herself being led down the narrow vents swiftly by Wayne. "You've done this before…" she accused, seeing how precise and experienced his movements were.

"Fillmore taught me to always look up. Got me out of a couple of tight spots, if you know what I mean." He laughed. "I know the ventilation system in this area of the school like the back of my hand." Ingrid could only stare.

At last they'd reached the place where Fillmore had entered. Together, they looked down an opening in the vent, watching as the African American boy talked to a few strangers.

"Who are they?"

Ingrid shrugged. "Be quiet and listen." She ordered.

"You're sure there aren't any fragments down here?" Fillmore asked flatly. A boy across from him laughed.

"My, you get to the point quick, Cornelius. But then, Tamal said you would." The boy grinned. "Yes, there aren't any shard members around here. DL'd kill us if we let any fragments down the hallway… though most know to stay away from here."

"So where IS Tamal?" Fillmore asked.

"A little late, as you can see." The boy shrugged. "Carla said the person who runs the theatre is a real nag, and she's always making Tamal stay after…"

Fillmore stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, no joke."

A girl turned to Fillmore. "So, Cornelius, right?" she asked. "How do you know Tamal? If I'm not mistaken, you weren't with us last year."

"We go back, a ways." Fillmore shrugged. "Tamal's the one who convinced me to come off the Shard gang before the territorial fight last year. Haven't been back since…"

"All I know is, DL had better know what he's doing…" The girl grumbled. The first boy elbowed her in the arm. "OW! Hey!"

"Katie…" the boy warned.

"Shut up, Bret." The girl, Katie, spat at the boy. "He's a former Fragment and you know it. And believe it or not, I'm not comfortable around liars."

"Well, Tamal trusts him, doesn't he?" Bret countered. Katie leaned back to look at him. It was obvious she didn't believe the boy. "And plus, did you know that Cornelius is over those days? I mean… according to rumor, he even became part of the Safety Patrol."

"Shut up." Katie said, eyes going wide. "Shard would never even _allow_ that."

Bret scowled. "Exactly. You owe someone an apology."

Fillmore just shook his head. "No, it's ok, I'm used to that sort of talk." Suddenly the door opened to reveal another boy. "Anyways, looks like my wait's over."

"You're late." Katie snapped at the newcomer.

"Yeah, I know. Oh, by the way…" he turned to Bret. "DL wants to see you. Both of you." He informed the kids, looking from Katie to Bret. Somehow the newcomer knew, just by looking at them, that there must've been a fight. Katie huffed and left in a storm, while Bret cautiously exited after her.

The boy turned to the former safety patroller. "Hello, Cornelius. Or is it Fillmore today?"

As the newcomer turned around, showing his face to the children in the vents, Ingrid scowled and rubbed her temples. "Headache?" Wayne asked quietly.

Ingrid shook her head. "I swear I've seen that kid before… Wait!" the girl gasped, before she could control it. She covered her mouth and looked down the vent, but the two didn't seem to hear. The only hint that they'd heard her gasp was when Fillmore's eyes flickered upwards for a second.

But after a moment, Fillmore turned to Tamal again. "Cornelius, I guess…" he answered his friend's earlier question. "So I guess word got around?"

"You guess correctly, child." The boy grinned. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and leaned back on his heels.

"So cocky, my brother." Cornelius answered, as though they were playing some sort of game.

The boy cocked his head to the side, giving Cornelius an odd look. "Well, I'm glad you're not too depressed to play along…" he sighed. When Fillmore gave him a confused look, he elaborated. "I know you quit the safety patrol, Cornelius, for one reason or another."

Fillmore flinched slightly. "Yeah, but I shouldn't have. I've got awful timing…"

"Does your 'bad timing' have to do with why you contacted me? Or is there another reason?"

Fillmore shook his head. "You can answer that yourself, Tamal."

A silence stretched between them. Finally the boy, Tamal, sighed. "I'd rather not. But you know, I was planning on contacting you anyways. If you can get this information into the right hands…" the boy held up a packet of papers, "…then the Dragon Clan will really owe you." He handed the papers to the African American boy. "But… if you're not part of the safety patrol anymore, people might start snooping, or start wondering where you could've gotten that information…" he trailed off.

"Don't worry, I got it covered." Cornelius smiled. "I have a way of getting this info to my friends without anyone knowing it was me."

Tamal raised an eyebrow. "You have a contact? Someone who can go between the safety patrol and you?"

Cornelius nodded.

Tamal hesitated. "We can trust him, right?"

Fillmore smirked. "Do you trust me enough to make that judgment?"

At this, Tamal stuck out his tongue. "Oh, fine. Guilt me into trusting you. _That's _the mark of a true friend!" he countered, crossing his arms. He smiled. "But whatever. Sure, I trust you. Now go on, you don't want anyone else to be seeing you down here. If word gets out that you're friends with a 'Drag', shard might just come looking."

Shaking his head, Fillmore put the papers into his bag and made his way to the door. "How do you know they haven't already?" he asked, a touch of bitterness in his voice.

This made Tamal stop. "You know… that's one rumor that's been going around."

"What? What rumor?" Fillmore turned around to look at the other boy.

"That you quit because Shard was threatening you. It's not true, right?" he asked. "It's just a rumor, right?"

Fillmore hesitated, and looked to the ground. After a moment, he shrugged and opened the door. "Yeah, Tamal. Just a rumor." He assured the boy, and left.

After Fillmore left, Tamal just stared at the door. Up in the vent, Ingrid could see his fist shaking in… anger? Frustration? Perhaps it was both, because the next second the boy slammed his fist into a nearby desk, making her jump slightly.

"Damn it all!" the boy shouted. Furious, he pulled a cell phone from his coat and dialed a number. "Yeah, DL? We've got a problem…" the boy said into the phone. "Yeah, just met with Cornelius Fillmore? I think the rumor is true." the boy sighed and sat at a desk. "Yes, he didn't tell me outright. But it's pretty obvious. And now he's sticking his neck out for us? We can't let him do that."

Ingrid frowned, trying to make sense of it. The rumor? The rumor was that Fillmore quit because of the shard gang. DL? She'd heard that somewhere before… and… what exactly was Fillmore doing? 'Sticking his neck out for them'? What did that mean?

Below, Tamal started talking again. "Huh? A body guard? Fillmore can take care of himself, sir. But I guess that would be a good idea." The boy hesitated. "I'm more worried about his friends. Fillmore ain't the type to worry about himself. Shard's threats were probably about his partner… what was her name…?" the boy shook his head. "And his old friend, Wayne, is visiting, so that's a problem too. It's not like you can just go up to them and say 'hey, guess what, you're in danger of being attacked, so us Dragon Gang members will be escorting you around school for the next five months."

This made Ingrid blink, and she looked up into Wayne's eyes. He looked completely stunned as well. They almost didn't hear Tamal say, "You really think we can pull that off? Well, sir, you're the boss…".

Tamal shut his phone off and placed it back into his coat pocket. "_That_ went well, didn't it?" he muttered dryly to himself.

Ingrid felt a hand on her arm, and she looked up. Wayne was gesturing behind him, silently saying that they should go. Ingrid nodded and followed him quietly through the vents. Once they reached the classroom they'd been in earlier, Wayne helped Ingrid down. "So, first off," he started. "Why did you gasp earlier? You nearly gave away our position."

The black haired girl shrugged. "I… I could've sworn that boy was Tamas, the boy from the crafter's lab. You remember him?" Wayne nodded. "But they kept calling him Tamal. Something's fishy here…"

"Tell me about it." Wayne sighed. He bit his lip. "Do we tell the others about this? About Fillmore meeting these… people?"

"I think they were from the dragon gang."

"Right. Are they on our side, then?" Wayne asked.

Ingrid could only shrug. "All I know is that Fillmore is in over his head, and we might be too." She sighed. "They SEEMED to be on our side. I guess we should hold off on telling Vallejo and the others about this. Just until we've got it sorted out."

Wayne nodded too. "What bugs me is that they figured out everything we wanted to know in a matter of minutes. They know who's threatening Fillmore, they can probably track shard's movements, and they are taking an accurate guess on what their next target is." Wayne said, but stopped.

Ingrid looked into his eyes. "Their next target?"

Wayne shifted, uncomfortable. "I kind of got the feeling that… well… they think shard's interested in us."

"'got the feeling'? Wayne, they said it out loud!" Ingrid scolded, then paused. "But if they're right, it could be a problem."

"So we're going to be 'attacked' soon, then? That'll be fun." Wayne sighed.

Ingrid frowned. "Hey, they could be wrong, you know." She pointed out as she headed towards the door.

Wayne hesitated, then followed her through. "Yeah, I guess…" he sighed. "I hope you're right, anyways."

Ingrid closed her eyes and sighed. "Yeah. Me… too."

* * *

"I'm tellin' ya, they just came out of nowhere!" Danny O'Farrell exclaimed loudly as Ingrid and Wayne entered the HQ. 

"Riiiiiigghhhttt…" Karen rolled her eyes, carefully putting a band-aid on his cheek. "Just hold still, would ya?"

"What's going on?" Wayne asked. Ingrid sat at her desk.

Danny looked over to Wayne. "Well, you see," he started, but Karen growled at him and tugged his chin into position again.

"O'Farrell was in the hallway when a bunch of people dressed in black attacked him from behind." Karen sighed. "Apparently, two kids that were nearby tripped them all up long enough for him to get away."

"Really?" Wayne asked, exchanging a glance with Ingrid.

"Well, I, for one, think he's delusional." Anza grinned. "It must come from the 'bad boy' thing he's got going on at the moment. Great story, though, Danny."

Around them, people laughed. Wayne had a bad feeling in his stomach, and he came to stand behind Ingrid. "Well, what do you think?"

Ingrid was about to answer when Su-il-en9roc sent her the IM. She'd been waiting for him, having nothing better to do. Immediately she clicked the chat open.

'Hey.' She typed quickly on the computer. Wayne leaned back, watching as she conversed with Roc over the internet.

**That was fast…** Rock typed back.

'Yeah… Today's been kinda slow…' Ingrid admitted.

**Really? I had a great day. … Ok, I had a mediocre day. But it was better than most. **

"Same here, I guess. I got a lot done. So anyways…"

**Right. I got the stuff you wanted to know, I think. **

"Did you really?"

**Yeah. I've got a friend or two in the Dragon gang as well, and people who know people in the dragon gang. Sorta confusing, but you get the point. I asked for information to be passed to me indirectly. **

"Which means…?"

**Which means I've got a person going between me and the dragon gang with information. I'm what's known as a contact… someone who passes information on to another party.**

"Oh." Ingrid blinked, remembering what she'd overheard from earlier, when Fillmore was talking with Tamal. "Do you know Cornelius Fillmore?"

**What? Why?**

"Uh… just wondering." Ingrid typed hastily, thinking she'd probably get her friend in trouble… or get in trouble herself. No one knew she'd overheard the conversation earlier, after all.

**Oh. Well, Yeah, I know him. **Roc's letters appeared cautiously on the screen. **I mean, he IS the one who… **he paused.

"Who… who what?" Ingrid asked.

**Ah, actually, that might not be such a good idea to tell you…**

"Tell me what?"

**A kid named Cornelius gave me your contact number. Of course, it was a while back… maybe three months ago? I've got a lot of contacts in my book. He also gave me one marked 'Vallejo' somebody and 'Anza' for the Safety Patrol… and a few for the golf team, but whatever. **

"Did he? When was this?"

**Like I said, maybe three months ago or so. I hope I don't get in trouble for telling you this… **

Ingrid sensed a lie somewhere in there, but she let it slide. "That's all right. Now, where were we?"

**Right… **

There was a pause in the text.

**Naturally, they didn't give me a lot of stuff, maybe they don't trust me entirely. Nothing on the Dragon Gang Leader except his code name, DL… short for 'Dragon Lord'. **

"I heard that somewhere around school today…"

**Did you? That's not a good sign…**

"I'll be fine. It was just something in the hallways."

**All right then. **Roc answered back after a moment. **It also says here there's a suspected territorial fight in the football field later today, about 5:15. Maybe just a small skirmish, but… people are probably going to get hurt. **

"HOW hurt?"

**If it's on the football field, I'm guessing it's between Shard gangsters and Dragon gangsters within the Football team and the surrounding groups… maybe the cheerleaders, color guard, badminton team, and such? I'd worry more about the football team, though. They really pack a punch. **

"Why? How many people on the football team could be in either gang?"

**You'd be surprised. **

"Why?"

**Here's the kicker… Shard gang is very, very potent. A lot of people know about the gangs. Probably a third of the people on the Football team are with Shard, because Shard likes to get his hands into all the different groups. **

"What do you mean?"

**Shard will contact people he thinks he can use in a certain group, like Football or the swim team, and 'extend an invitation' to them. He's got lots of people on his side, and nearly every after school activity has at least one shard gang member in it.**

"Aren't there exceptions? Places where Shard doesn't have any influence?"

**Of course. Well, one would be the Safety patrol… Although, you can't say Shard hasn't tried to get an 'in' with you guys.**

"What?"

**I know for a fact that Shard's got close tabs on the Safety Patrol HQ. He might've even extended an offer or two to the people there… but I also know that if he did, no one accepted his offer. **

"Well, that's a good thing." Ingrid mused.

**Anyways, the Territorial fight is scheduled in a few minutes, if you want to check it out. I'm staying away from the place. It's not going to be pretty… **

"Yeah, we should probably check it out…" Ingrid sighed. "Thanks, though. Can you keep us updated?"

**No problemo. See ya. **

With that, Ingrid closed the screen and logged off her computer. "Come on, Wayne, looks like we've gotta go again."

"Go where?" Vallejo asked, coming back into the room from his office.

"We just got an IM from Rock. He said that there was going to be a 'territorial fight' on the football field in a few minutes. We should check it out."

Vallejo hesitated, then threw her a walkie talkie. "Take an extra, and call for backup if you need it." he ordered. "I don't want you down for the count, either. You got me?" he commanded, leaving before Ingrid or Wayne could answer him.

Ingrid and Wayne exchanged glances, finally exiting the Headquarters.

* * *

They got there in a matter of minutes. Ingrid and Wayne were on their guard, keeping a keen eye on the football players from the bleachers. Oddly enough, once practice was over, the teammates were splitting up into 'groups'. While about half the team went in to the locker rooms joking and being generally rowdy, some split off or lagged behind them and didn't enter the locker room. Ingrid saw two or three of them make their way to a group at the far end of the stadium. Another few found some 'buddies' at the locker room's entrance, and stayed there. 

Ingrid turned to Wayne. "A little suspicious, don't you think?" she glanced from one group to the other.

"A little." He admitted. "But it could just be normal, right? No need to get upset just yet."

He glanced back to the locker room group, who were conversing softly with their heads down. One glanced over to where Ingrid and Wayne were standing, and sneered. The football kid elbowed another kid, who wasn't on the football team, and pointed to where the safety patrollers were standing.

"Then again, it might not be such a good idea to stick around…" Wayne said tightly, grabbing her wrist. Ingrid, confused, (she'd been watching the other group by the far end of the stadium,) looked back to the locker room to see the cluster of kids that were there now stalking towards them. She turned to leave with Wayne, but stopped when she heard a sweet voice from behind her.

"Hello there."

Ingrid turned to find a girl had come up behind her. She had green almond eyes and brown hair, and was wearing a color guard outfit and a claw necklace above her uniform. She also carried her flag. "Um, you two need something? You seem lost." She smiled slightly.

"Uh… we're just…" Wayne bit his lip.

At that moment, the girl glanced at the kids that were in front of the locker, her smile falling for a moment. Her eyes flashed a warning to them before she turned back to the safety patrollers. It had happened so fast that Ingrid wasn't sure it had happened at all, but she glanced over to the group by the locker room. They had stopped, uncertain, and Ingrid glanced back at the girl. Something was fishy…

"If you need to speak with the coach, I can show you to his office!" she exclaimed happily. "Or, over there is the captain of the football team, and a few guys from the colour guard and badminton team. If you want to speak to any of them…" she suggested, pointing to the group that was across the stadium.

Ingrid did a double take. "What about them?" she tossed her head to the locker room's entrance, where several of the football kids and badminton team AND colour guard members were. "Why can't we speak to them? They're closer."

The girl hesitated. "Because you wouldn't want to."

"Why?"

"Because…" the girl hesitated, not knowing what to say. She looked flustered, then sighed. "Because you really shouldn't be here right now."

Ingrid shifted her weight. "Would that have anything to do with a territorial fight being held here soon?" the girl asked.

The colour guard girl blinked at her for a second, frowning thoughtfully. "Wow, he really IS fast…" she mumbled under her breath. Then she shook her head. "No, no, what I mean is…" she glanced back to the kids by the locker room. "It's not really safe here. Not for you."

"We can handle ourselves." Ingrid said flatly.

"No! No you can't." the girl objected, catching Ingrid's arm before she could turn away. "Listen, you can watch or whatever you're planning to do, but don't do it from here. Seriously. It's not…" the girl glanced back to the group, who seemed to be retreating. "It would be better to watch somewhere else. But nothing's going to happen." She told them, turning away. She took a second to tap her flag on the ground, then roll it up around the pole. After she finished the action, she walked to the other group.

Ingrid leaned back on her heels, biting her thumbnail thoughtfully for a second. "oo-kaaayyy… Come on, Wayne. Let's jet."

Wayne blinked in confusion as the girl turned away. "Wh-wh-what?" he asked, bewildered. When Ingrid didn't respond, he was forced to run after her. "Ingrid, come on, what are we doing?" he demanded, trying to catch up with her.

"We're… leaving." She said calmly.

Wayne just rolled his eyes. "Why?"

"Because." She replied, walking off.

Wayne took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. "Girls…" he growled. He managed to catch up with her by the time she re-entered the school building. "You know what, Ingrid? You're weird. We get all the way over here to check out that territorial fight thing, and then we leave because someone else told us to. We're not going to get anywhere by doing that!" he pointed out.

"Yeah, well," Ingrid started. "I learned all I needed to know. We don't have to be there to see the territorial fight."

Wayne stopped. "What?"

"Have you forgotten the cameras that are set up around the place? That's enough to keep an eye on them. We just needed to know what it was about, and if the fight was really going to happen. There's no way we could've broken it up ourselves." She stated.

"But you…" Wayne faltered. "But… what could you have learned from that little interaction?" he asked. "You said you learned all you needed to know."

Ingrid sighed and shrugged. "Well, here. The kids in the group that was coming towards us were in the Shard gang, and the girl was part of the Dragon gang. The group by the stadium was also part of the Dragon gang."

"How do you figure?" Wayne asked.

"Think back to when we were in the vents." Ingrid ordered. "When we overheard Fillmore talking to those Dragon people."

"Yeah, I remember…" Wayne nodded.

"In that envelope he got was a key, a note, and a necklace. A _claw_ necklace. The SAME kind of claw necklace that the colour guard girl we just met was wearing. Secondly, if she was with the Dragon gang, she tried to refer us to the group at the far end of the stadium, which meant they were also the Dragon gang group. Thirdly, if it was a territorial fight between the Dragon gang and the Shard gang, there's no one else the group by the lockers could've been."

Wayne stopped to think about this. It made sense, but one thing was still bugging him. "Why did the girl warn us?" he asked Ingrid.

Ingrid sighed. "Don't you get it? If she was from the dragon gang…" she stopped, looking across the hall. "Tamas?" she wondered aloud.

"Wh-what?" Wayne asked, caught off guard.

"That's Tamas." Ingrid said, pointing across the hallway to a tall, blonde, lanky boy. "I think I'll go talk with him." She said, trotting over to him.

Wayne, confused, followed her. He saw that the boy Ingrid wanted to talk to was with another person; a short girl. Wayne studied them, letting Ingrid do the talking.

"Hey, Tamas…" Ingrid started. The boy didn't turn around, so she put a hand on his arm. "Tamas, can I have a word?"

The boy stopped, slightly surprised. "Tama-Oh!" the boy laughed, his blue eyes glinting with amusement. "No, I'm not Tamas. My name's Tamal." He corrected her, and Ingrid frowned.

"What? So wait…" Ingrid paused, frowning. She remembered earlier that day, when Fillmore had gone to talk with the Dragon Gang members, the boy Fillmore had been talking to was named _Tamal _not _Tamas._ Yet, they looked exactly alike.

When he saw Ingrid's confusion, Tamal sighed. "We're twins. Don't worry, it's a common mistake, since me and Tamas are really close and all. Right, Carla?" he asked the girl who was with him.

"Sometimes they switch desks," the girl named Carla sighed. "They have the same teachers, they're next to each other in lockers, and they're both in the Dra- erm…" she stopped, reconsidering what she was about to say. "But you know, Tamal, You and he are sort of different. You're more outspoken, and you do like different stuff…"

"So you're not into woodworking?" Wayne joked.

"No, I'm into theatre." Tamal answered, blushing. "So's Carla."

"Oh." Ingrid nodded. "I'm sorry. I guess I really did get the wrong person." She blinked, backing off. "Come on, Wayne, we should get back to HQ." she said, and Wayne began to follow. He stopped short.

"Do you know Cornelius Fillmore?" He asked suddenly, turning to look Tamal squarely in the eye.

Tamal was slightly flustered at the question. "Ye-yeah. Why?"

Wayne frowned. "Have you spoken to him recently?" he pressed, ignoring the question.

Tamal exchanged a glance with his friend. "I had heard what happened, sort of. Rumors are everywhere, these days. We were old friends… real old. And I just wanted to make sure he was ok… so yeah, we have had a chat or two." Tamal shrugged.

"Oh. Alright, then." Wayne nodded, starting to follow Ingrid. "Thanks for your time."

"Officer Ligget, right?"

Hearing this, Wayne turned around. "What?"

"Ligget. Wayne Ligget, I think. He talked a lot about you before things got… tough. Just recently, he's been mentioning you again. His opinion of you has gotten better since fourth grade, you know? And he mentions you too, Ms. Third." He smiled. "I imagine you're friends with him as well."

Ingrid and Wayne nodded. Tamal shifted his weight, ready to leave. "He'll be fine." The boy assured them both. "Perfectly fine. He's a tough one, he is."

And with that, they departed.

* * *

"Fillmore's got more friends than we thought." Ingrid mused back at headquarters. She sat down heavily in her chair, and Wayne looked out the window behind her desk. 

Wayne opened his mouth to say something, but he immediately closed it again. Ingrid gave him a sideways glance. "Something up?" she asked, noticing he was acting very quiet.

"I was just thinking that Fillmore's too stubborn, that's all." He sighed, leaning against the window. Ingrid gave him a questioning look, and he shrugged. "These… _dragon _people seem to have everything under control, but I wonder if that's enough to make everything all right again. Getting Shard off the streets, getting Fillmore back with us…" he stopped, chuckling slightly. "Fillmore's too stubborn for any one group to handle alone, I think. Maybe they'll need our help to get him back over here."

"You never know," Ingrid shrugged. "Maybe we'll need THEIR help." She kicked back in her chair, putting her hands behind her head. "All I know is, he will come back to us. Because he loves this job too much to give it up. Don't you think?" she looked at him again.

Wayne smiled again. "Well, he DID used to hate the safety patrol…" he joked.

On the other side of the room, Vallejo walked in. "Oh, good, you two are back. Listen, we just got a call about there being a huge fight down by the football field—"

"We tried to stop it, but it was sorta out of our hands, Vallejo." Wayne explained, looking at him. "Didn't the backup get there?"

"You called for backup?" Ingrid looked at Wayne. "I thought we agreed it would be a waste of time."

Vallejo just shook his head. "It doesn't matter, it was nothing serious. Just a few bruises and a whole lot of detentions for the fighters. It took about ten teachers to break it up…" he blinked, then shook his head. "What I mean is, that's not why I'm here."

Now it was Ingrid's turn to blink. "Why are you here, then?" she asked.

"Folsom wants a meeting with all three of us." He told them, shrugging.

"Great. And here I was thinking my day couldn't get any worse…" Wayne muttered.

Vallejo frowned at them. "Don't be silly, I thought you'd be looking forward to this. Especially you, Wayne."

"Looking forward to it? Are you nuts? Why on earth would I look forward to a meeting with YOUR principal?" he asked. What Vallejo said next almost made up for the awful day at school…

"…You do remember she was going to give us an out-of-school pass, right?"

* * *

Next chapter won't be up for a while, but I figured I might as well get this up, since it was done. Please Review, tell me what you think of the story so far! 


	11. Complications

****

**Yay! New chapter! **

**Yeah, I got some reviews recently that brought my attention to this story again. I'd been working on my other story, Dragons Will be Dragons, hoping to get it done before concentrating on anything else. I'm so close, too! But then two reviews pointed out that I've left this un-updated for… three months. Again. **

**Whoops. **

**In all honesty, I didn't mean to do it this time. I just wanted to get something done for once, and my other story is actually pretty much written, compared to this one. But three months is too long, so I'll update this now. **

**What you need to know about this chapter: **

**I couldn't write it at all. I had one paragraph written from three months ago. But two reviews requested an update, so even though I stared at the first paragraph (which I am very proud of, and is well written,) for an hour and didn't get any inspiration, I had to attempt the second paragraph. And that second paragraph, (though not being quite so well-written,) struck inspiration and I burned through the rest of the chapter with that. So, don't thank me for writing the story, thank the second paragraph. **

**And the moral of the story is; more reviews, faster updates!**

**(Oh, and the inspiration of the second paragraph carried over to the next chapter, and now ch. 12 is halfway written. Still need to finish and fine tune it, but it'll be up soon.) **

* * *

_Note: what's supposed to go here again? Some kind of 'disclaimer'? on some show that I'm supposedly ripping off? That supposedly doesn't even air on the TV screen anymore? That doesn't even make enough of an economical standpoint to advertize their dvds enough so that the vast majority of its viewers can invest in the company? That one? …Oh, you must be talking about the show; Fillmore! Yeah, I don't own it… I guess… _**

* * *

Ch. 11: Complications**It wasn't long before the trio found themselves in front of Folsom's office. Vallejo was mentally preparing himself for the confrontation of his principal, Ingrid was giving the report (the one containing the info on all the cases they were investigating) one last glance-through to make sure they hadn't missed anything, and Wayne was seriously thinking about inserting earplugs into his ears so he wouldn't have to listen to Folsom rant. 

The door opened, and heads turned to see the principal and vice principal walk through it. Ingrid blinked, surprised at how worn out Principal Folsom looked; her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, (something that rarely happened)… her suit was crumpled in places (something that NEVER happened,) and there were rings under her eyes, (cleverly hidden by her glasses,) that betrayed what little sleep she'd been getting. The woman's attention wasn't on the children, but she was speaking on the phone at the moment.

"Yes, I realize—Yes…" she winced slightly at the phone. "I'll be sure to put more effort into it, chancellor… yes… no… of course!" she said to the person on the other side of the telephone line. "Yes, thank you." She nodded finally and hung up.

As soon as the phone was off, she tossed it over her shoulder, leaving Raycliff to catch it before it fell to the ground. The frustration in her voice broke into an annoyed scream, "Urrg! Goddamnit all!" she shouted, running her fingers through her pulled back hair and stretching. At last she finished, turning her attention to the kids.

"Ah, you're here," Acknowledging the children, she made her way over to her desk chair and practically fell into it. "Good."

Ingrid had to forcibly close her mouth, which was hanging open in pure shock. She took a deep breath, plastering on a calm, neutral look as the principal sat down. The boys beside her still stared, so she began. "You wanted to see us, right?"

Folsom, who seemed distracted, blinked at the comment. "Yes," she said finally, after remembering what the meeting was supposed to be for. "I want a progress report."

Immediately handing over the file, Ingrid let Folsom look over it. While the principal was distracted, the dark-haired girl took the opportunity to elbow Wayne in the arm. He winced and glared mildly at her, but he finally stopped gaping. Vallejo was hopeless, though. Ingrid finally had to step on his foot to make him look away, and that lasted for only a second before he turned back to the blonde adult, gawking once more.

"What happened to you?" he blurted out suddenly, making Ingrid and Wayne facepalm.

Folsom glanced up slightly, then back down to the report. "I thought that was obvious," she said with dry amusement. "I've been swamped with concerned parents and guardians, and now the chairman of the city council is getting involved," she muttered with a sigh. "If this goes on any longer, I swear they're going to eject me from my position as principal…"

The three sat up straighter, their faces clearly alarmed. Folsom, though, in all her tiredness, missed it. She went on, her voice as light as it had been before. "Mr. Valdemar of the science department wouldn't be too shattered over it, though. Since he was running for principal before I managed to snake the job away from him, he's pretty happy at the recent problems I've been having. Perhaps they'll even choose him as the next principal…." Folsom narrowed her eyes at the document she was reading. "A gang? In _my school?!" _she demanded, her voice finally becoming appropriately angry.

"Actually, two," Wayne supplied, relieved at the subject change.

"Ugh," she sneered at it, finally leaning back in her chair. "Can't say I approve," she muttered. "Of the gangs, at least. I _do _approve of the amount of information you've collected since the last time we met, though. Perhaps I should offer incentives more often… you worked faster in these two days than you have all last week."

A blush crept across all of their cheeks. "Yeah, um…" Wayne tried to explain.

Again, Folsom wasn't paying attention to care. "It's enough. I can easily submit this to the higher-ups," she said to herself, rising from the chair. She slid the painting behind her desk away from the wall, revealing a safe hidden there. With precision in her movements, she twisted the dial and opened the vault and took out a pass. Afterwards, she snapped the door shut, leaving the Vice principal to readjust the painting over the safe once more as she sat back in her comfy chair.

"So," she started up with a decisiveness that made the group jump. "Which one of you is going to Fillmore's house?" she asked, snatching up a pen. "I did promise this, after all."

"Ingrid?" Vallejo asked, but the girl shook her head.

"I've been there a total of one time, and that was with Wayne," she pointed out.

"I've been there loads of times," Wayne spoke up. "I could go."

Vallejo nodded. "All right."

Folsom carefully spelled out Wayne's name on the silver pass. She then handed it to him. "Don't abuse it," she warned dangerously. Wayne took it examining it curiously. "And one more thing," Folsom leaned back in her chair.

"Keep me posted on the cases, will you? I've got everything to loose if this goes wrong."

Ingrid nodded. "We will."

-

* * *

-

Back at the HQ, a group of newbie officers huddled around Wayne's silver prize, Oohing and Aahing. "That's what an official pass looks like? Sweet!" commented one.

"They don't give those to just anybody." Said a girl.

"Yeah, he must be on a super-top-secret assignment!" exclaimed the last. They huddled around the slip of paper, trading gossip of what, exactly, the assignment Wayne had could be.

Ingrid watched with amusement at her desk. Wayne, having no desk to himself, had requested to set his things on a newbie's desk, and that had included the pass he'd just gotten. _He steps out for a minute and the rookies go crazy,_ Ingrid thought dryly with a smirk. One of the newbies, who was not huddled in the group, caught her eye. _Not all of them, though… _

It was the boy she'd seen a few times in the office before named Ray. He sat at his desk, the only clue that he cared about the silver 'immunity idol' that was the object of his friends' attention was a casual glance in their direction before going back to his work. Curious, Ingrid roamed closer to him.

He seemed deep in thought, considering his computer monitor with curiosity. With a sigh, he sat back and rubbed his eyes, muttering something. He stood, stretching out his back. "I really need a break," he moaned, glancing around. He looked ready to leave, but something curious caught his eye; a note on his desk.

Slowly, he picked it up and examined it. After a moment, though, his face turned to disgust and annoyance, and he slapped the paper down without reading it. Afterwards, he stormed towards the door. One of the girls, who was still admiring Wayne's out-of-school pass, turned to give him a curious look.

"Ray? Where are ya goin'?" she asked in a slight southern accent.

The boy took a deep breath. "I need some air. And a break. I'll be back in a while, Jamie." He assured her. When she didn't protest, he left.

With a frown, Ingrid made her way over to his desk, picking up the note. It was sealed, so there was no way to read it without him knowing, but she could clearly make out a symbol etched onto the paper's outside. Ingrid recognized it; it was the same image that had been left on the school's floor when the shard gang had dumped glass at the entrances of the school.

She would have pondered it further, but Wayne walked back into the room, making the rookies scatter. For fear of being seen by them, she carefully set the paper back down on the desk and went over to Wayne. "You need to keep a closer eye on that pass," she informed the boy. "The Rookies were ready to frame it and worship it as a god."

"Heh, I doubt it," Wayne grinned. "Besides, I don't need it until tomorrow."

"What?" Tehama, in front of them, turned around to ask.

Wayne shrugged. "Vallejo and I talked about it, and since the day's almost over, it's probably wiser to let Fillmore go home and we'll get in his house tomorrow. It wouldn't do to have him walk in on me." He sighed.

"Yeah," Anza sighed. "But just keep a closer eye on the pass. Don't lose it!"

"Don't let the rookies steal it, either." Ingrid teased.

Tehama turned back to her work. "Don't let a goat eat it."

"What?" Wayne asked, confused.

Ingrid burst out laughing. "Oh my god, I totally _forgot _about that," she said turning to Wayne. "Fillmore got one of these passes once, and he went to the city. One of the police officers there—what was his name?"

"Officer Langley Turk, I think." Anza supplied. "I can't forget it, he says it too often for me to forget."

"Right." Ingrid nodded. "Officer Langley Turk was getting on Fillmore's case about not being in school, so Fillmore was going to show him the pass, but a goat ate it. He nearly got busted because if it…"

Wayne frowned. "Turk. Yeah, I remember him. He was always getting on Fillmore's case, even after he joined the safety patrol." He shook his head. "Anyways, I'm going to go get something to eat, since school's almost over and I don't want to get stuck in the hallways when the bell rings." He slid his jacket on.

"I'll come with you." Ingrid decided.

Shrugging, Wayne started towards the door, but paused. "By the way, looks like Danny was right," he informed Tehama.

"…right?"

"About being attacked." He said. In a side note, he pointed discreetly to the left, out the HQ door, where Ingrid saw a few kids leaning against the wall watching them. "I've talked to the rest of the people at the HQ, and they say that there's been these kids with claw necklaces following them around everywhere. A few of them were jumped, like Danny was earlier. These kids came to their rescue."

Tehama sighed in annoyance. "I know." She muttered. "I was jumped too. But I was lucky; there were those kids who came out of nowhere to help me."

"Looks like someone's got it in for us. Everyone watch your backs." Ingrid said.

"It's ok, I think someone else's already got that covered..." Wayne said, heading out to the hallway once more.

Ingrid followed. Once outside in the hallway, she was silent for a moment, but then spoke up. "Say Wayne," she said.

"Mmm?" Wayne asked distractedly.

"What do you think of that rookie, Ray?"

He blinked at the question. "Ray? That rookie who Vallejo thinks he'll give a promotion to?" he inquired, leaning back on his heels to look at the ceiling tiles. "He's… odd."

"Odd?"

"He reminds me of Frank. A _lot._" Wayne elaborated with a smile. "I talked to him. He's really into the Safety Patrol, but he seems a tad distracted."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Ingrid agreed, remembering the notes.

Wayne sighed. "So why do you ask?"

"Hm? Oh. No reason. I'm just curious." She answered quickly. "Just… Curious…."

-

* * *

-

Back in the HQ, Tehama and Anza watched them go. "We could get something to eat, too." The boy pointed out.

Tehama blew a dyed bang out of her eyes. "We _should,_ but I'm busy." She said, tapping a pile of papers on her desk. "How about you go con one of the rookies into taking some of my paperwork down to the student council office?" she asked as she gave him a look that said 'that-was-an-order-not-a-request'. With a sigh, Anza headed off to one of the rookie's tables.

Of course, Tehama didn't seem to ever _not _be busy. Always working, always concentrated… even too much to get a candy bar with him. Sometimes it made him annoyed, but he knew she was dedicated. It was one of her charms.

So was her stubbornness… but there were lots of people around here that had _that _trait. It bugged him to no end, how stubborn she was, but at the same time it made him smirk for some reason—it was something that made her… interesting. And that, annoyingly enough, was confusing.

Anza looked finished talking to one of the rookies. Once the rookie left for Tehama's desk, Anza glanced up to see Vallejo wandering around the room.

_Speaking of being confused… _He headed over.

"What are you doing?" he asked his boss.

Vallejo continued to send glances around the room. "I was wondering if you know where Frank is? I haven't seen him anywhere…" he explained.

"Frank? Wasn't he in the AV room?" Anza wondered aloud. "Why do you need him?"

"Actually, he needed me for something." Vallejo clarified. "I'll look in the AV room though, thanks." He nodded and left.

Anza blinked, suddenly reminded of the conversation Wayne and Tehama had had before he and Ingrid left. He wondered if he should run after Vallejo and tell him about the situation, but before he could react, a rookie came up to him and started spilling out a problem to him. She practically demanded his attention.

_Oh well,_ Anza thought to himself. _I hope Frank is on the ball enough to let Vallejo know about the situation._ And with that, he immersed himself in his work.

-

* * *

-

Frank was, indeed, at the AV room. Vallejo walked in, finding the boy in the dark room, the only light coming from the screen and lighting up his face with an eerie glow. The Junior Commissioner wondered if he should turn on the lights, but upon seeing his friend's face, he decided it was better to let the kid brood.

Carefully, he approached. As he suspected, Frank Bishop was in what seemed to be a very, very bad mood. The kid didn't even bother to acknowledge Vallejo's appearance before going off on a rant. "How many people are involved in this? It's not even funny! There's over a fifth of the school that's acting suspicious, and everyone's getting all worked up, there's been scuffles in the hallways and officers being attacked and information being traded right under our noses—_why _did you not include me in all this before?" He sulked.

Vallejo blinked. "What?" he asked finally, unable to understand what his friend just said. With a sigh, Frank pointed irritably at the tape he was watching.

Leaning over his shoulder, Vallejo could see clearly what he was watching; a clip of a huge ten-person fight. It was eventually broken up by some teachers, but Frank fast-forwarded it to two hours later, when there was another scuffle involving Tehama and three other kids. When the clip was done, Vallejo frowned and stood straighter.

"I wasn't informed of this," he let his friend know. "Tehama hasn't said a word."

"She's not the only one, either. I checked it out. Danny's story about being jumped was true, and there were at least four other similar brawls today involving safety patrol officers."

Vallejo sighed and made a mental note to grill his friends later about this. "I didn't know." He repeated.

"And on top of that, there's been information trade flying like crazy." Frank muttered, ejecting the tape and inserting another one.

"…What?" Vallejo asked again.

Fast-forwarding it to the important part, Frank let Vallejo see what he was talking about. It was a security tape of some lockers, showing groups of kids wandering around the halls, carrying notes and talking wildly on cell phones. The kids with the notes were stuffing the information into people's lockers. Again fast-forwarding the tape, Vallejo could see kids during lunch break finding and reading the notes, turning on cell phones, making calls, conversing with one another, and generally—

Wait…

Vallejo leaned in to the tape. "That's Fillmore's locker." He stated.

"So I noticed." Frank strummed the counter in front of him in annoyance. He watched as the African American boy on the tape went through the same steps, finding the note, making his own phone calls and conversations. "But the question is, why? And what is this information trade?"

"I don't know." Vallejo admitted.

"They've definitely got a secret," mumbled Frank. His comment made Vallejo curious.

"A secret?" He inquired.

The boy considered his words carefully. When he spoke, his voice was dark and thick with anticipation. "I think something big is brewing under our noses. Something… big. And I don't like it," Frank growled, his eyes glued on the screen. "I don't like it at all."

* * *

End of CH. 11.

Keep your eyes peeled for the next chapter. It'll be up soon.

And now, a special announcement from the author:  
A new study shows that it's beneficial to your health to Review:laughs maniacally: er... review... please?


	12. Just a Game

**Yup.  
****New Chapter.  
**…  
**Ok, it's really short, but I've been pondering how to make it more interesting, but it's just… it can't be added on to. I think it's fine the way it is, so that's what you're going to get! After all, short and sweet can't be beat! (:gets boos from the crowd:)**

**Um, yeah… You might've figured it out by now: I'm not a poet… I'm a fanfic writer. **

**:coughs: ON WITH THE STORY!

* * *

**

Ch. 12

**Just a Game **

The Master sat alone in the AP science room wher Mr. Valdemar always taught. He liked the place very much, and often came there when he wanted to be alone. Not to mention the fact that his followers always knew they could find him there, which was very handy when he was waiting for his right hand man to find him and give him a status report. Until then, he'd busy himself with playing chess. No opponent was neccesary, he liked to play against himself.

Carefully, he began the game. He lifted up a pawn, ready to place it forward. Instead of putting it down, he let it hover over the board for a minute.

A pawn. Yes, expendable little pieces that you could shuffle around the board and get rid of at your leisure. Not very good pieces, really—they could only move forward, and hardly ever took any pieces besides the opponent's pawns. That's why they were so disposable. But if you ignored an opponent's pawn for long enough, the pawn would sneak past all your good pieces to the other side of the board, and become a different, more powerful piece for you to command.

He was beginning to wonder if he'd slipped up somehow, because many of the people he was watching—Cornelius, Ryu, Ingrid, Tamas, and even the unknown Su-il-en9roc—seemed to have transformed themselves from pawns into something far worse…

Before he could follow up on that thought, he heard the door to the science room slide open. Behind it, Jason, his right hand man, entered the room. "Ah, I thought you would be here, sir." He bowed slightly. "I thought you wanted me to give the progress report."

"So I did, Jason…" the Master trailed off, resuming his game of chess. "What kept you?"

"Everything." Replied the boy. The Master shot him a curious glance, then shrugged with a smile.

"So, Jason," The Master began smoothly, motioning to his game of chess. "What do you think of Cornelius Fillmore? Is he a pawn?"

Worried, Jason took in a deep breath. This was not a good way to start a meeting, especially if the Master was feeling cryptic that evening. "No." he answered. "Not at all. With the right moves, he could take us out." Secretly, to himself, the boy hoped he wasn't getting in over his head. Critisizing the Master was risky buisiness, and underestimating him was even worse. But if he didn't tell the Master what he thought—_exactly _what he thought—then the Master might start to get suspicious with him.

To his relief, the Master grinned slightly. "And the girl, Ingrid Third?"

Jason bit his lip. "I'm not sure about her…" he muttered. "She's smart, smart enough to be as much of a threat as Cornelius is… but… we can do something about her, right? It's like a double trap. We blackmailed Fillmore into getting out of the safety patrol because we told him we'd hurt Ingrid if he didn't, and Ingrid might be worried about Cornelius, and what we might do to him if we think she's… suspicious."

"And if she isn't worried?"

Blinking, Jason looked up. "Then we can just get rid of her, can't we?"

The Master nearly laughed. "I'm not so sure your head's in the game, kid. Pay attention to the board, or you'll loose. If we get rid of Ingrid, there's nothing keeping Fillmore in check." He smiled. "We might've been in trouble if she started pointing her nose in our direction." The Master chuckled to himself, moving a bishop across the chess board, taking a white horse from his 'opponent'.

This white horse he held up for Jason to see. "No, Ingrid Third is not a pawn. She is a knight. If she's in the right position, she can put us in check without being in danger herself. And there are very few knights in the game of life, Jason." He twirled the piece in his hands.

"I… see…" Jason said, in a tone of voice that meant he didn't understand at all.

"Cornelius… Cornelius Fillmore is a bishop. He'll lie in wait on the other side of the board until you slip up, and then jump out of nowhere and take you by surprise. He's a crafty one, I'll give him that. You can Box him in and he _still _gets out." He muttered, a sour look on his face.

Jason shifted his weight onto his other foot. "What do you mean, sir? He's been lying in helpless wait while we go through our plans. He's only come into contact with the Safety Patrol once!"

"Are you sure of that?" Asked the Master. Jason didn't answer, so the Master leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling thoughtfully. "All the pieces are important, Jason. Tell me, have you heard of Su-il-en9roc?" he asked.

Jason seemed flustered. "You mean that person who Andrea—ah, I mean, Amelia—caught IMing Ingrid?"

The master groaned. "Don't tell me that girl was out boasting about it _again…_"

The boy shifted his weight again. "She was saying how she hacked into the school's computer records and found someone named Rock giving inside information about us. That's all."

The Master shook his head. "That girl'll be the end of us…" he muttered. "Yes, that person. He's given Ingrid Third, and the safety patrol, more information that we would like. What do you think about him?" asked the master. "Is _he _a pawn?"

Jason shrugged. "I don't know, sir." He admitted.

The Master leaned back, a glint in his eyes. He surveyed the chess board. "I don't think I know, either." He said, making another move on the board. "You see, what _I _think, I think that Su-il-en9roc could very well BE a pawn… just a very, very well placed pawn." He set a pawn down on the board, and Jason could see it was in position to take either a knight or a rook on its next turn. The boy frowned. "Like this one here." The Master motioned to the board. "Roc has us pinned on one side or the other. He's a bomb waiting to go off, and probably WILL go off if we make the wrong move. And unfortunately, I don't know exactly **where** Su-il-en9roc **is **on the board. He could very well have me in check." The Master sighed with annoyance.

"You sure are fond of chess analogies, sir…" Jason muttered quietly, but the Master heard him.

"Actually, chess puns. They're far more fun. Care for a game?" he asked, setting the knight he'd been holding down on the table. His mood brightened considerably.

Jason cringed, not knowing how to say what he needed to say. "Sir…" he said wairily, making the Master look over to him. "I think… that the Dragon Lord has caught on to our little game." He said finally.

The Master frowned thoughtfully. "So DL, the infamous Dragon Lord, finally decided to challenge the Shard gang to The Territorial Battle? I was wondering when he'd get the guts to do it." he thought aloud.

Jason cringed again. "No… I mean…" Jason stuttered, falling silent.

The Master looked at him sharply. "What happened?" he asked flatly.

"It seems as though the Dragon Gang has taken it upon themselves to guard Fillmore and his friends."

At this news, the Master seemed to get very angry. _"What?_" he demanded. "How in gods name did they get this past you? The Dragon Lord seems to have no regard for the rules of this game." The Master muttered, sinking low in his chair. Jason backed up a step while he could, slightly afraid at how angry the Master appeared.

"Then why should we have to follow the rules of combat?" asked the boy, a little wary. "If they cheat, they give us licence to cheat as well."

The Master pondered this thought. "That might not be such a bad idea, Jason." He said after a time of thought. "Not bad at all. Come, tell me the details to this situation, so I can figure out how to work this to our advantage. After all… no honor among theives, right?" he asked.

"Not anymore, sir." Jason said, sitting in the chair opposite of the Master. "Not anymore…"

* * *

**End! …of the chapter. **

**Yeah…**

**Firstly, thanks for all the reviews last chapter:loves reviews:  
To Zeerak and anyone else missing Fillmore, he's going to have a big BIG B! I! G! part next chapter, so don't worry. Yall'll be seeing him soon. **

**Anyways, I don't know when the next chapter's going to be up, really. So don't hold your breath… imagine, if you all died from lack of air, I'd REALLY get sued, and not just because I didn't put a disclaimer this chapter:cough:is now just realizing it:**

**See ya CH. 13!**


	13. For Future Reference

**CH 13 For Future reference**

**:dances around in a circle: Guess who got the dvds? Guess who got the dvds? Me! **

**Ok, so they aren't really the true dvds (but don't tell!) Someone gave them to me as a present—he'd taped them and made a sort of 'box set' of them. Now I can watch Fillmore whenever I want! **

* * *

* * *

Ingrid and Frank strode down the sidewalk together. It was early morning, and the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. Frank, it appeared, was not a morning person; he hadn't said a word to the girl the entire walk from the school. Deciding to break the silence, Ingrid turned to the vexed boy.

"When we get to the kid's house, what are we going to say?" she asked him.

Frank turned his head slowly to look at her. He frowned, blinked a couple times, and asked, "Did you say something?"

"You _really _aren't a morning person, are you?" Ingrid mused dryly.

"Hey, I'm not too thrilled about staying late at school again and then waking up at 5 am on a _Thursday _to go back," he commented. "But I suppose it's necessary if we want to catch that Neal Gemstone kid—the previous shard leader—before he leaves his house. Just remember we've got to be back to school before first period." He paused. "But I wonder what we'll have to say to get this Gemstone kid to talk…"

"That's what I just _said,_" Ingrid sighed. Her mood wasn't that great, either.

Frank paused. "You know what we haven't done yet?" he asked suddenly.

"No. Enlighten me." Ingrid said flatly.

"We haven't talked to Amelia Shanks!" Frank exclaimed.

Ingrid frowned, trying to remember the name. Then, upon remembering where she'd heard it, she stiffened. "That girl that turned up on the fingerprint scanner program, along with Andrea Ruthford?" she asked Frank to make sure she was remembering right.

"That's the girl. We haven't said a word to her. And we need to!" Frank said, looking down the street as cars passed them.

Ingrid blushed. "I guess it slipped my mind, that's all." She sighed, kicking a nearby rock down the sidewalk. "We've got to check out this Neal character first, since we can't do it at any other time, and Wayne's off at Fillmore's house with Vallejo as his backup. As soon as Fillmore leaves the house," she made a shooing motion to the air. "You get the picture. So we've been busy with that, not to mention how swamped the office has been lately, have you noticed? We've got fights coming in from all parts of the school, the detention rooms are overflowing, vandals are acting up, calls are coming in, and the thefts haven't stopped." She listed off on her fingers. In a quieter tone, she also added, "Also, I think I need to have a heart-to-heart chat with that rookie, Ray…"

Frank, interested, shoved his hands into his pockets and looked livelier. "Ray?" he asked, having heard what Ingrid said to herself. "He's a good kid."

"That's what everyone says," Ingrid agreed.

"But not you?" Frank looked intently at her. When she did not answer, he looked away. "He's a bit rough around the edges. And he's secretive. But he's passionate and he's dedicated, two things you need to be a safety patroller. It also helps that he's got a gift, he's smart. He's brilliant, even. Knows how to get inside a criminal's head… knows how to play them. He could probably be a profiler, given the right training…" Frank rubbed his chin thoughtfully. His smile fell, though, when he looked at Ingrid. "But you think something's wrong with him." He summarized.

"He…" Ingrid started, trying to explain without really explaining. "I… There was this note on his desk," she admitted finally, making Frank interested. "The note had this symbol on it that was the same as the one we found painted on the floor when all that glass appeared at the doorways. And I don't know that to make of it, either."

Frank frowned at this new bit of information. "That's something to notice," he said in amazement. "We'll have to check with him, I guess. But we have to stay focused at the moment." He reminded her. "Neal is our first priority."

Ingrid nodded, understanding where he was coming from. It was no use to be distracted by something she was going to have to fix later, not when there was a pressing issue before her now. And from what she'd heard, Neal Gemstone, A.K.A. Shard, was going to be a handful. Someone who created the most destructive gang in X middle school's history wasn't exactly going to be a piece of pie to crack open. To make matters worse, it turned out that he was a full year older than Frank, two years older than her. Normally, having an eighth grade officer was help on scouting missions such as this one, simply because of sheer will; senior classmen were always given respect by the younger ones. But since Neal was a fourteen-year-old, and a graduate from X on top of that, Frank's 'seniority' wasn't going to be enough to make him talk. (even IF Frank was taller than most adults already…)

"Here's Moonview street," Frank commented, making Ingrid snap out of her trance-like state. "What house number was he on?"

Ingrid closed her eyes, remembering the paper with her photographic memory. "613." She recalled.

"Damn, what I wouldn't give for a photographic memory," Frank muttered under his breath, looking around. The comment made the younger girl smirk, and she glanced at the nearest house's number. Frank saw the number first, though, so he tapped her on the shoulder. "This way," he motioned down the street. Ingrid kept a steady pace with him.

Ingrid took a deep breath as she walked down the street with Frank. They were about to go to the house of the founding member of the Shard gang, and Ingrid wasn't so sure she was prepared for that…

-

* * *

-

On the other end of the district X middle school resided in, Wayne was carefully picking out a scouting spot. He'd sit there until it became apparent that Fillmore had left his house, and only then would Wayne attempt to climb up the ivy on the house to the second story, pry open the windows, and search the place for the threat or blackmail notes. Once finding a spot (it was a good spot, with stone hiding him on one side and bushes on the other,) he stashed his equipment and sat in the tight hiding spot.

Now comfortable, (or as comfortable as one could be on a friend's front lawn on an early, dewy morning,) he pulled out his walkie-talkie and adjusted the frequency. He made sure to adjust the volume, just in case. Only then did he turn on the equipment. "Testing, one two, this is Wayne Ligget?" he talked into the speaker.

"I hear ya, kid," Vallejo's voice crackled through the speakers. "What've we got?"

"I'm settled," he told his former boss. "Awaiting Fillmore to come out."

"Good." The older kid sounded pleased. "Let's not screw this up, Ok? We've got a while until Fillmore leaves his house, but I have to warn you that his parents probably won't leave until eight, and also that Fillmore has adequate grades in school, meaning he probably has open lunch. And seeing as how he has next to nothing to do over lunch break, he'll probably come home during that time. Whatever you do, don't get caught in his room."

Wayne sighed. "Yes sir." He replied, looking at the house. After a moment of silence, he started up again. "It just seems so _wrong, _breaking into his house like this. It's an offence, illegal, you know… and…"

"And Fillmore has done it more times than you can count. Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if _you've _done this more times than you can count, being his former partner." Vallejo interrupted. "Listen, you'll do fine. We have to do this, no matter what. Fillmore isn't budging on the subject, and we have to do something, or we'll lose him. We can't lose him."

"We can't." Wayne agreed, taking a deep breath.

"I'm going to take a moment to get some breakfast," Vallejo informed Wayne. "It's still early in the morning. Five fourteen, to be exact… but listen Wayne, I have to know exactly when Fillmore leaves the house, understand?" he ordered Wayne. "Remember that I'm your backup, so you can't do anything without me, or this arrangement won't work."

"Gotcha," Wayne told him. "I'll let you know when something comes up."

Over the device, Wayne heard a scraping noise, then a 'beep!', alerting him that Vallejo had just switched the talkie to 'listen' mode. Wayne would not hear anything that Vallejo was doing, but Vallejo would hear everything Wayne needed to tell him.

_God I love these privacy features, _Wayne thought to himself, turning the hi-tech walkie-talkie over in his hands. After admiring it for a while, he turned his attention back on the house. His whole being was trained on that front door, waiting for Cornelius to leave through it.

In truth, Wayne didn't know if he was up for this. An out of school pass was a heavy responsibility, and the fact that Folsom handed one to him had really racked his nerves, whether he'd let the others know or not. It meant she was really desperate, and that wasn't something that comforted him, really. To think that someone _that _headstrong and powerful could be so easily worn down by the events at school… it was almost terrifying. Of course, Fillmore was equally as headstrong and powerful, just in a different way, and he had been worn down by the gang as well. So why did Folsom's exhaustion surprise him so much?

Fillmore… There really had been nothing he could've done about influencing his friend's decision to stay or go. He'd arrived too late; Fillmore's decision had _nothing _to do with him. And yet, Wayne felt guilty. Fillmore had been there when Wayne had moved, and again on spring break, when Wayne was struggling with a corrupt system to work with. Again and again, Fillmore was there to break his fall, and now there was seemingly nothing Wayne himself could do for his friend.

Well, almost nothing, assuming that breaking into Cornelius's house and invading his privacy was considered helping.

_Stop it, stop it, stop it! _Wayne scolded himself. _What will happen will happen. As Vallejo said, this is necessary… and it's for the group. For all of us, no matter how __**I **__feel about it. _

Wayne took one last deep breath and shoved the guilt from his mind. He prepared to focus on the house, letting nothing, not even his thoughts, distract him, for he knew that he would need his wits about him when the time came. With that in mind, he looked intently at the front door, hoping silently that this was the right thing to do.

-

* * *

-

It was still pretty early when the two patrollers reached Neal Gemstone's house, but they decided to try their luck anyway. Ingrid rang the doorbell, exchanging a glance with Frank. He appeared calm and ready to her, which was a far cry from how _she _felt; she didn't feel prepared at all. However, she refused to show it, placing a mask over her true feelings. When the door opened, her face appeared as calm as Frank's did.

The person who answered the door was a woman, seemingly still half-asleep. "Who are you? And why so _early?_" she asked groggily. Ingrid checked her watch quickly; it was still only six a.m.

"Uh, we were hoping to catch Neal Nonpareil Gemstone before he left for school. I don't suppose he lives here?" Ingrid inquired.

The woman blinked at her for a few moments while trying to get her brain into gear. She finally understood what Ingrid had asked, and she turned back into the house. "Neal! You've got some friends at the door! Come in," she ordered the kids after a moment. The two patrollers stepped inside. They were led to a family room where couches were spread all over. The furniture seemed to be very expensive… Ingrid wondered if she should just stand, but Frank didn't seem to have any reservations about messing up the room; he plopped down on the nearest couch and motioned for Ingrid to do the same. Meanwhile, his eyes searched the room lazily, inspecting the surroundings.

Not long after Ingrid sat, Neal's mother (or so Ingrid assumed,) left for another room. Frank took the opportunity to speak up. "Nice carpet, pricy furniture, rare paintings, considerable sized room… you know, I'm getting the impression that one of the two parents has a _very_ high paying job…" he commented, running his finger down the arm of the couch.

"Neal is supposed to be a genius, perhaps one of his parents are too," Ingrid replied quietly.

The object of attention strode into the room. A boy, older and taller than Ingrid, stopped in the entryway and glanced around the big room. His jade green eyes lit upon the two safety patrollers. His eyes ran down Ingrid's orange sash (Frank didn't wear one; he didn't even own one at the time,) and smirked. "Let me guess. X middle school safety patrollers? I assume you're with her," he motioned to Ingrid, talking to Frank. "I can't say I'm surprised, though. Someone had to come forward eventually…"

"You're Neal, then?" Frank asked, looking up to the ceiling.

"Quite to the point, aren't you? Yes," he answered. The boy came and sat in a couch opposite the two. "And I suppose you're here because of the recent happenings at X." he assumed again.

Ingrid looked out of the corner of her eye to Frank, who seemed not to react to the assumption Neal had made. "We hear you're the Shard gang leader, or you were," Frank informed the kid.

"Really. Now who told you that?" Neal smiled warmly.

"A little birdie that I know might've let it slip." Frank replied, though his voice picked up a little vexation as he spoke. "I don't suppose that it's true?"

"You don't suppose it's true? That's very kind, but I can assure you that the rumor is one hundred percent true."

Ingrid stiffened at that; she hadn't been expecting a total confession right off the bat. Something here was fishy, and she couldn't quite pick it out. Why would he actually admit to being the Shard leader? There had to be a trick somewhere in there. Her eyes drifted over to Frank for instruction to find that he seemed equally as surprised: his eyes were opened wider, his posture stiffer than it had been before. He hadn't been ready for Neal's comment, either. After a moment, though, he relaxed. "So… you're just admitting it right off the bat." Frank summed up. He let his eyes roam over the kid's face for any signs that he was lying; he found only cockiness and a smug demeanor there.

"Let me tell you something, detectives," Neal said, leaning back into the couch face to get comfortable. "The world doesn't work like it did in Middle School. The stakes are far higher than they were back then. But in all truth, there are some aspects of school that apply to real life. One of them happens to be the underground. And that is something I know inside and out, something you cannot change. I was the ultimatum there, and if it wasn't for the dragon clan, that school wouldn't exist any more. I loathed school, it meant nothing to me." He explained. "But then I found someone who had bigger plans for the school than just simply shutting it down. And I was so interested in his plan, I gave him full totallerian rule when I left for Y High School."

"Why are you _telling _us this?" Ingrid demanded.

"There is nothing to hide, is there? I am no longer part of that school. I graduated last year. And frankly, girl, my successor is almost completely free from your rules as well. there is no reason _not _to tell you these things."

Frank frowned. "I don't suppose you can clarify?"

"I am a ninth grader. A high schooler. Meaning: I'm out of your jurisdiction," Neal shrugged, his eyes gloating. "And that, my friends, means there is nothing at all that you can do about my previous actions, or my future ones."

"Well, while you are spilling out the details, why don't you just tell us who your successor is and we'll be done here." Frank said flatly. Neal was really rubbing him the wrong way, getting under his skin.

Neal, as he had before, smiled lightly and shook his head. "Now, now, 'officers'," he said, his voice as smooth as butter. "That wouldn't be any fun, now, would it? You have to figure out that puzzle yourself." He leaned back, inspecting his nails. "Though I suppose I could give you a hint…"

Ingrid frowned, glancing over to Frank. Frank's mood was getting worse and worse as he talked, but still he had not lashed out at Neal. "A hint." Ingrid repeated, keeping an eye on Frank.

Neal, happy to have gotten their full attention, smirked. "Ashes of actions, as they say. Everything we do has a purpose. All act for their own gain. Now tell me, who at X would benefit most from the actions of my successor? Only my successor, for he acts to his own gain. In order to get others to follow him, the leader of the Shard gang must make sure the others gain from his actions too—the difference between the leader and the followers is that the leader gets the most out of the deal. And so, in order to find the leader, you must find who gains the most from Shard's actions." He explained.

"Doesn't everyone get the same amount out of the deal? If the stealing at X was arranged by Shard, then we wouldn't know who got the biggest cut of the profit from that."

"Money, money, money. That's not all it's about, you realize. Take me, for example." Neal said. "As Shard, I wanted the school to be shut down. I nearly got that by setting up heists to make the school's supplies 'disappear'. The money I gained from the heists was just a plus to the matter. Now, I can tell you one thing… My successor gets far more out of this deal than mere _money." _He said, looking Ingrid straight in the eye. "And that, sadly, is all I can tell you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get ready to go to school. Show yourselves out, if you would." With that, he rose and left, leaving behind him two very frustrated middle schoolers.

-

* * *

-

Wayne nearly fell asleep watching the house.

As it turned out, Mrs. Fillmore left for work early, and Cornelius's dad took the opportunity to drive his son to school, even though it was only a five-block stroll to the school. The entire family was out of there before school started, which gave Wayne plenty of time to get in, get the notes, and get out. Hopefully.

After notifying Vallejo, Wayne made his move. He approached the door, checking under the doormat to see if the family kept a key to the house there. Predictably, he found nothing; Cornelius was a very suspicious person, despite having turned to the right side of the law in recent times. At least, he was suspicious enough to hide the only access to his house—the key—somewhere where no one would ever find it. Wayne had already checked the mailbox for the key, and there was no door ledge that could hold the missing object, so Wayne sighed. By the looks of it, he was going to have to scale the wall.

It wasn't as hard of a feat as it sounded, however. Fillmore's house DID have an easy way up; there was a vine wall that Cornelius had admitted to using several times before, when he arrived home later than he was supposed to—or when sneaking out. Memories were flooding back to Wayne, like from just eight months ago, when he'd seen Fillmore attempt the feat of climbing up and down the vine for him, and succeed. With a sigh and a shake of the head to get rid of the memory, he grabbed a handful of the vine and pulled himself up the side of the wall, as he had seen Fillmore do.

At the top, Wayne was relieved to find Fillmore had left his window open. There was something he wouldn't have to do himself.

Carefully, he climbed through the opening. Upon setting his feet down on the carpet in Cornelius's room, he turned to find himself face to face with Fillmore's dog and winced. How could he be so stupid as to forget Fillmore had a dog? "Nice boy…" Wayne coaxed the pup. Thankfully, the dog seemed to remember him. It stepped back and sat on his heels, looking at Wayne curiously.

As an added precaution, Wayne snapped the window shut and took off his shoes, so that he would not leave any tracks of mud or dirt on the carpet. Of course, this meant he would probably have to leave the same way he came, and climbing down the side of a house was much more challenging than climbing up…

"I'm in, Vallejo," Wayne said over the walkie-talkie. There was a moment of scraping and scratching as his (former) boss adjusted the settings.

"No problems? Good." He answered, his voice static-y over the device. "All you have to do is locate the notes."

"'_all you have to do is locate the notes'_," Wayne mocked quietly, using air quotes as he spoke. It wasn't going to be as easy as his former boss made it sound. Wayne sent a glance around the room. "where the heck do I start?" he asked.

"You're on your own there," Vallejo replied. "I couldn't tell ya."

"Some help you are." Wayne sighed, and he switched the walkie-talkie off. Now that it was silent, the kid gave the room another glance. The place was oddly clean, nothing in the waste basket, and… well, nothing. The room was pretty big at that, and considering he'd have to put everything back where it was (if he didn't, Fillmore would suspect someone had been there,) the safety patroller wasn't so hot on the idea of diving headfirst into the drawers or shelves…

Wayne crouched down, absently petted the dog's head. "Don't suppose you could tell me where Fillmore's keeping his secrets, can ya boy?" he asked.

Suddenly, the dog's ears perked up. The pup licked Wayne's face, making the boy flinch. The movement made the kid fall backwards onto his rump. The dog jumped a few feet away, then turned back to look at Wayne curiously. Then, the animal trotted across the room to the desk and stopped. Upon seeing that Wayne was still sitting there, watching him, the dog trotted back and attempted to lick the boy's face again.

Wayne, not wanting to get a facefull of slobber, stood. The action made the dog turn tail and trot back over to the desk. Once there, he pawed at the second drawer, then at the ground in a digging motion.

"what are you _doing, _pup?" asked the kid, walking over to where he was. Wayne remembered back in Tennessee, the safety patrol had a dog that would sniff out evidence once in a while. When he found the evidence, he'd always paw at the ground, and sometimes bark at the spot. What Fillmore's dog was doing now reminded him of what the safety patrol's dog in Tennessee would do when he found a clue.

But… Fillmore's dog wasn't trained, was he?

Hesitantly, Wayne reached down to open the bottom drawer of the desk. The Dog started to bark, so he closed it again and opened a different drawer. When the dog whined and dashed away, Wayne knew he'd found the right drawer. He slid it open and, sure enough, a mess of folded papers caught his eye.

The dog came back with something in his teeth. Wayne took it from him and saw that it was an envelope, addressed to Fillmore. He flipped it over to see that it had already been opened, and there was a fine dust on the outer edge that looked suspiciously like fingerprint powder—what Tehama would always use to find fingerprints on things. It wasn't even cheap flour, it was the real deal. ( Flour was what they normally used instead of Fingerprint powder, since Fingerprint powder was quite expensive.) Fillmore had obviously tried to find who had sent it to him in the first place, and was seemingly unsuccessful.

Wayne sighed and set the envelope on the ground, scratching Fillmore's dog behind the ear. "Good boy," he said halfheartedly. With his free hand, he pulled out a plastic bag he'd brought along with him. He slid the envelope into it, then took off his backpack. He carefully placed the bag into his backpack, then took out another bag for the folded slips of paper.

Just to be sure, Wayne took a glance at one of the slips of paper. The note on it made Wayne cringe, and he looked at another one. With each new slip of paper, each new message… his eyes grew wider. Wayne just could not believe what they were insinuating.

A doorbell ring from downstairs snapped him back to reality. Quickly, Wayne took a select few notes from the pile, putting them in a new plastic bag. If he took all of the notes, Fillmore would know he'd been there. As soon as that was done, he slipped the drawer back into it's former position and stood.

Fillmore's dog had dashed out of the room when the doorbell had rung. He was now barking loudly at the newcomer, and Wayne sighed in relief. If the dog hadn't recognized him, Wayne would've had to deal with the same loud dog, and possibly a few bites to go along with it. In case whoever at the door might come in, Wayne hid in the closet. He'd have to wait for the dog to stop barking before he searched the rest of the room, though Wayne was certain that the notes he'd found would be all he needed. In fact, he should probably just ask Vallejo if he should come back right now, with plenty of time to get away from the house before Fillmore came home for open lunch.

Wayne reached down to his belt and removed the walkie-talkie with a snap! And turned it on. "Vallejo, you're not going to believe what I found…" he whispered to himself, and prepared to talk into the device.

-

* * *

-

"There's nothing we can do," Frank's grudging voice echoed down the hallway. They'd made it back to school, but there was nothing to brighten their moods between Neal's house and the walk to school. Both of the patrollers were as grumpy as ever.

Ingrid sighed and made her way down the hallway. "Well, I still don't like that Neal character." She informed Frank. They turned the corner, and suddenly, Frank stiffened and grabbed her arm, dragging her back behind the wall. "Frank? What are you…"

"Shhh…" he whispered, peeking around the corner. Ingrid did the same, eyes searching for what had set Frank off.

In front of the HQ, Ray, the rookie she'd seen around the office, was walking absent-mindedly, reading off of a sheet of paper that he held in his hands. Under his arm he carried a file, presumably where the paper the kid was reading belonged. He was so absorbed in reading that he didn't notice a person following him until another confronted him, placing an arm against the wall and cutting off his path. Ray looked up, his absent-minded facial expression melting away to one of annoyance.

"What do you want?" He snapped.

"We were wondering if you'd considered our proposition," the second guy from behind Ray stated, and the rookie turned to look at the boy from the corner of his eye, not letting the first boy who'd cut him off out of his sight.

"You mean that sheet of paper? It's in the trash, along with the other million you sent me," he growled quietly. "My answer is still no." he tried to walk around them, but the guy confronting him pushed Ray back into the wall lightly, cornering him.

"Do you know what we're offering? Shard could give you anything you wanted, anything at all. And all you'd have to do is—"

Ray didn't stick around to hear the end. He stomped violently on the boy's foot, making him back off. The kid howled in pain and hopped on one foot, cradling the injury, and Ray stepped around him and entered the HQ doorway. He turned around a moment, giving them one last glare. "Don't bother me again," he ordered, and then left.

Frank watched with amusement as the kids who'd cornered him limped away. Once they were gone, he relaxed and turned to Ingrid. "I can see what you were talking about. That was a little suspicious…" he agreed, remembering how she'd brought him up in their conversation earlier that morning.

Ingrid raised an eyebrow. "A 'little'?" she repeated.

"Yeah, A little," Frank nodded. If those people were who I think they were, then he doesn't seem to be on very good terms with them… a good sign," Frank nodded, a thoughtful smile playing on his face.

Ingrid looked about to protest, but gave up. "Listen, Frank," Ingrid sighed, rubbing her temples. "I'm going to get Amelia's file and pull her out of class for questioning. I know you can't come… what was it you had to do?"

"Something called 'class'," Frank said wryly, a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. "Oh, to be on the safety patrol and have your mornings and afternoons free… what's it like?" he asked her.

Ingrid shook her head, not exactly in the mood for games. "All right, you've got class. I'll grab the file and pull Amelia out of HER class… but…" she paused. "Wayne is going to be getting back to the HQ around lunch. With any luck, I'll be questioning our mystery girl, so I won't be here when they show up. Could you…?" she trailed off.

Frank held up his hands. "Say no more. Of course I'll check in with them." Frank agreed quickly. "I know you're curious to see what he finds."

"Curious isn't exactly the word…" Ingrid sighed, walking back to the HQ. Frank watched her go, thinking. He made up his mind to talk with Ray during the lunch break, too, so Ingrid didn't have too much on her mind. Hopefully, when Wayne came in with those notes, they'd actually be able to get a bit of work done. Hopefully, Wayne's mission had gone better than THEIR little chat with Neal…

The bell rang above Frank's head, snapping him out of his thought process. The kid winced. "Hopefully, the teacher won't notice I'm late…" he said aloud, picking up the pace of his walk. He left all his thoughts behind him, for now. Until lunch, all HE had to concentrate on was CLASS.

-

* * *

-

Tehama leaned over in her desk, frowning at a list in her hands. Without looking up, she said loudly, "Hey, Anza, get over here!"

Anza, curious, put down his workload and headed over to her desk. "Yeah?"

"You seen anyone on this list today?" she asked.

Joseph stared at the long list of names. There had to be at least fifty of them, if not more, on that page. He studied it for a minute before pointing to a name near the middle of the list. "I saw him this morning in second period…" he started, and looked further down the page. "And this one in the hallways before school…" he shook his head. "No one else. Why do you ask?"

"These were all the kids reported absent since before period 4." Karen said flatly, and Joseph's jaw dropped.

"That many?!" he asked in shock.

Absently, Karen nodded. "B-but that's… **way** more than we usually get! Where are all these kids going?"

Karen scrunched up her nose at her friend. "If I knew THAT, I wouldn't be asking YOU, would I?" she said, her mood darkening. "Maybe Ingrid knows."

"She's out finding that Amelia Shanks girl to question her, remember?" Anza reminded the girl. "Frank went to class, so he's no help, either."

"Then maybe we can ask Wayne?"

"He's out at Fillmore's house." Replied Anza.

"Vallejo?"

"He's Wayne's backup."

Karen blinked at the sheet, irritated. "And Ray, that kid that's likely to get a promotion? He's swamped with the recent activity in the office," Anza added before Karen could ask. "And his partner, Jamie, she's down booking that vandal that escaped detention earlier… and Megan's delivering some paperwork I finished to the student council office."

"Then who's LEFT?!" Karen demanded.

Anza looked around the room solemnly. "um…" he paused and straightened, blinking in curiosity.

"…has anyone seen O'Farrell?"

-

* * *

-

In truth, Danny O'Farrell didn't know where he was, himself. He was too busy 'evading' the enemies that had jumped him yesterday that his destination wasn't really on his mind; he was just walking to wherever.

Maybe 'walking' wasn't an extreme enough term, though….

"The name's O'Farrell," Danny said to himself. "Daniel O'Farrell." He ducked behind a parked supply cart that the janitors used, his eyes sweeping the area. His hair and attire was the same as it had been at the beginning of the week; greased and holey blue jeans, black leather jacket, mussed hair… Yup, he was still playing the bad-boy act.

After scanning the area and seeing no immediate danger, he dashed away from the supply cart and into an abandoned room. He stayed there only a minute, though, before moving on.

He turned the corner and found himself face-to-face with the door leading to the pool. Danny opened it and entered, but once inside, he paused to think about the room as he always did; he wasn't ever sure if it was an outdoor pool or an indoor one, because while the pool was not surrounded completely by four walls, part of the building DID stretch over it, giving it shade. It was more like a giant parking garage with a pool at the entrance. Sometimes, O'Farrell wondered if it wasn't just there for the heck of it, because he'd never actually seen anyone USE the pool; and there were several boxes, mats, and other equipment piled near it. So, if all it was used for was a storage center, why didn't they just drain the darn thing and stack the boxes and such inside the empty pool?

After thinking about it for a few minutes, Danny was snapped out of his trance by the sound of voices. Quickly, he hid behind a large, _large _stack of cardboard boxes that loomed to his right. Keeping himself between the boxes and the wall to the building, he picked his way around to see where the people were.

It didn't take him long to find who was talking. As he peeked through the boxes that shielded him from sight, he nearly gave his position away by gasping in surprise. On the other side of the stack were two people: One of them was Cornelius Fillmore.

O'Farrell sat back on his heels, wondering if he should leave or stay to listen. His dilemma was answered when Fillmore's conversation with the other person reached his ears.

"Derek, Leave me alone," Cornelius snapped. The African American boy attempted to step around the other kid; a white-skinned kid with medium-long black hair and blue eyes. The kid, Derek, stepped in front of Fillmore.

"This isn't a game, Cornelius," Derek growled, his eyes dangerous.

"Oh? Shard seems to think it is…" Fillmore answered tartly, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Derek stiffened at that. "He's suspicious of you, understand? Now do us both a favor and keep your nose where it should be and out of our business."

"Is that what you call it? A "Business"?" Fillmore asked. A silence stretched between the two, before Fillmore broke it again. "I really thought you knew me better than that. I can't keep my nose out of anything. Especially when it reeks of unfairness," he narrowed his eyes at the kid.

Danny, still hiding in the shadows, frowned at the interaction. Quickly, he took out his camera and set up for a shot, praying that neither of them would hear the shutter click. He turned off the flash so that they wouldn't catch where he was, but there was no way to silence the instrument.

Carefully, he focused the lens, still listening to the conversation. "You've got some nerve, challenging Shard like that. If you're going to be so bold, why don't you just give in and join the Dragon Gang? It'd be quicker."

Click! O'Farrell snapped the picture. As he'd dreaded, Derek noticed. The black-haired boy stiffened, his eyes going wild searching for the source of the noise. Cornelius, thankfully, didn't seem to hear a thing. He smirked. "Oh, so you come to warn me to stay out of Shard's way, and then advise me to join the rivaling gang. You aren't sending very clear messages, here," he taunted.

Derek fumed, now having forgotten the noise made by Danny's camera. "You know I was being sarcastic. Or are you that dense?"

"According to you," Cornelius sighed, inspecting his fingers. "Listen, I'm tired of this game. Let Shard believe what Shard wants to believe. But if the Dragon Lord's right, then you aren't going to be standing very long, anyway."

Derek froze. "Yo-you've been in contact with the Dragon Lord?" he asked, bewildered.

Cornelius raised an eyebrow. "Hasn't everybody? Or didn't you get the memo?"

Derek struggled for a moment, unable to speak, so Fillmore spoke instead. "No, I haven't met the Dragon Lord. I don't know who, exactly, he is. All I've got is a name. But you know, rumors fly everywhere these days. And according to them, Ragnarok's boiling just under the surface. You gonna stay in the pot and get cooked alive?" Fillmore asked the kid. When Derek made no answer, he shrugged. "You and I used to be friends, Derek. And while I appreciate you going out of your way to get me out of trouble," he sighed. "The fact is that you still work for the person who threatened to harm my friends."

Derek paused, looking at the African American boy. "I…" he started, but stopped again.

Cornelius stepped around Derek, and towards the exit. He stopped a few yards away to turn and look at the boy. "Good_bye, _Derek." He said firmly. He then left, leaving a stunned seventh grade kid in his wake.

After the door shut with a resounding Bam!, Derek simply stood there. He seemed deep in thought, not breaking eye contact with the closed door. At last, he turned away, and muttered something under his breath that O'Farrell was barely able to hear:

"Next time we meet, it isn't going to be on friendly terms, Cornelius…"

-

* * *

-

Cornelius, meanwhile, was also fuming. The mere fact that Derek, his old friend, would even consider warning him about Shard had put him off track, but even moreso, Fillmore was angry at himself.

Derek was a close friend. Possibly the first one he'd ever made in X middle school, before he'd met Sunny or Penny, even. Now, he was just turning his back on the kid, knowing that Shard would probably destroy Derek's life.

And what kind of friend did that?

It almost proved they weren't friends anymore. After turning to the right side of the law with Wayne, Fillmore had broken off contact with most of his former friends, deeming them as bad influences. After all that, he was NOT going to be pulled to the wrong side of the law just by peer pressure.

Sunny, Penny, and Derek had been among the list of people to avoid. And after all, Fillmore knew that Derek, of all people, should not have been on that list. Really, Derek was a good kid, he was just looking for some extra cash. He came from a poor family, and rarely had any money to even do things like school trips, so he'd joined the Shard gang.

Coincidentally, that was how they'd met…

_(flashback) _

_Cornelius watched Derek as he went through some of his martial arts moves. The black-haired kid was an expert at martial arts, being only a few steps away from a black belt. That was pretty far, considering he was only in sixth grade… _

_Derek made another kick. "So what's the story? Shard ask you to pull off that heist?" he inquired, focusing on his form. Fillmore sat back and sighed. _

"_Yeah, he asked me t' lead the operation," he sighed. "but y'know, I aint sure if that's such a good idea. If I don't find a good time to carry out the heist, we'll be caught like rats in a trap." _

"_You're joking." Derek laughed, stopping his routine to give the kid an amused look. _

_Cornelius held up his hands. "I know people call me 'the shadow', the kid who can get into anything, a'ight? But I can't get outta anything. I could get into the principal's office no sweat, but when I'm caught by the belts, dog am I caught…" he sighed, looking away. _

"_I'm sure you could get out of that, too…" Derek smirked. "You just need to learn to bust a move!" he made a kicking motion to the air and paused. "and a leg or two…" _

"_Y' mean, like… martial arts?" Cornelius regarded the other boy with skeptical eyes. _

_Derek smirked. "That's exactly what I'm saying." _

_Cornelius sighed and shook his head, leaning back in his seat. "I doubt it. there's no way I could…" _

"_what, are you short on cash?" Derek asked jokingly. _

"_You honestly think I'm short on cash? I've got enough to spare, from my jobs with shard, much less all the other heists I pull on my own time…" Cornelius spat, slightly offended. "Money aint the problem, kid. It's the teachers I'm short on. They're all adults, every last one of them. And I hate adults." He grumbled, sinking lower into his chair. _

_Derek paused, glancing over to Cornelius. He sighed and leaned against the wall. "You know, I could teach you…" _

_Fillmore looked up at him. "Really?" _

_Derek gave him a smug look with his slanted blue eyes. "For the right price…" _

_(end flashback) _

* * *

Fillmore shook his head to get rid of the memory. There was no use of feeling upset about such things. Derek had chosen one path, Fillmore another. And there was nothing that could change that fact, certainly not brooding about it.

Instead of sulking, he really needed to get back to class. There was only one more period until lunch, when he could go home and have plenty of time to brood before going back to school. Something struck him as wrong, though… he couldn't quite figure out what it was, but all he knew was that he really needed to get home soon.

Cornelius frowned, remembering something. During his verbal fight with Derek, he'd heard something that had sounded suspiciously like a camera taking a picture. He'd ignored it, figuring that it was unimportant, but now that he thought about it, who could have taken the picture?

One person rose up in his mind, but Fillmore brushed it away immediately. "No, no," he told himself. "What reason would he be there in the first place? O'Farrell's a klutz, we'd notice him for sure." He told himself. _'well maybe not….'_ His conscience added. But even if it had been O'Farrell, it was better than some people he could think of. After all, what would O'Farrell do with a picture of him and Derek?

--

Frank was heading towards the safety patrol HQ when he ran into the kid in question. Danny O'Farrell nearly knocked him onto the ground. The redhead himself, tripped, but Frank's reflexes reacted and he caught the seventh grader before he hit the floor. "Yo, what's with the rush? I don't see a fire…" he asked the kid.

O'Farrell got both his feet under him again, and Frank noticed he was still wearing the bad-boy outfit. He suppressed a smirk. "and when are you going to give up that silly costume?" he added.

"I saw Fillmore!" Danny exclaimed, waving his hands around frantically. "He was with another person and they were talking about shard and Ragnarok and the dragon lord-person and I got a picture!" he said quickly. He paused. "And I'll give up the bad boy act whenever I want." He added at the end.

Frank paused a moment to try to understand what Danny'd said, and he followed the kid into the HQ. Then, unwisely, he stepped back and asked, "You saw Fillmore?" which got him several looks, including ones from Anza and Vallejo.

O'Farrell nodded, holding up his camera. "I was going to develop the picture." He explained, showing Frank the instrument. Vallejo walked over to the two of them, and Frank noticed that Wayne wasn't in the room.

"You still waiting for Wayne to get back? Tell him to _hurry, _Fillmore's got lunch next period and he's likely to go home." He told his friend Vallejo.

Vallejo checked his watch, nodding in reply. Instead of doing so right away, though, he turned to O'Farrell. "What's this about Fillmore?" he asked the redhead.

"He was with another person and they were talking about shard and Ragnarok and the dragon lord-person and I got a picture!" Danny repeated.

Vallejo blinked. "Ragnarok? Dragon Lord?" he blinked. "What are you talking about?"

Danny grabbed a batch of keys off his desk, eyes going everywhere to make sure he didn't miss anything. "I don't know about the Ragnarok thing, but I'm pretty sure Ingrid knows something about that Dragon Lord person. Ask her when she comes back, whenever that is. I'll be developing the photo, I'll show you what I mean." He twirled the keys on one finger.

Vallejo blinked. He'd never seen O'Farrell so concentrated on one thing before. The redhead always seemed a bit out-of-it whenever it came to cases, like he was more interested in going off and reading a book, or playing some game. Now that he saw the kid could focus, Vallejo was wondering what, exactly, his capabilities were. On the other hand, he was also wondering what had prompted the extreme focus…

"I'm off." Danny said quickly, checking to make sure he didn't leave any undeveloped rolls of film in his desk. If he was going to the dark room, he might as well take all of his pictures along, right?

"Uh," Vallejo paused for a second. He was about to stop O'Farrell, but Tehama walked through the door at that moment.

"_There _you both are. C'mere, take a look at this!" she practically demanded, shoving a list of something in her boss's face. Frank leaned over Vallejo's shoulder to see what it was.

Vallejo himself didn't get it, either. "What's this, again?" he asked, looking at the girl.

"These," Karen sighed. "These are all the people who were reported absent from their classes."

Frank's eyes went wide. "What?"

"You heard me."

Vallejo was giving the list a good look-over, not noticing when Danny O'Farrell left the room. "All of these people are cutting class? I don't buy it. Unless some sort of schoolwide protest went underway since the start of school this morning, there's no reason for them to be missing class at the moment."

"Who says they're cutting class?" Frank asked Vallejo back. "There _could _be a proper reason they're missing, you know?"

Vallejo shook his head. "I have a hard time thinking of why that would be," he said. "Remember what we found out earlier? Perhaps they're missing because they're going on those 'territorial fights' or whatever."

Frank bit his lip, considering the possibility. Vallejo took the opportunity to look at him sideways. "Say, what are you doing here, anyway?" he asked his friend.

The question brought Frank out of his trance. "Say what?"

"I said, what are you doing here? You've got class, don't you?"

"No," Frank told him. "I've got open lunch, believe it or not. And No, I didn't come in just to think about these missing kids," he motioned to the paper. "Actually, I was hoping to get a chat between me and one of your people."

"Which one? Ingrid? She's out at the moment." Vallejo shrugged.

"No, no," Frank frowned, rubbing his chin. "I wanted to talk to that rookie, the one that's been doing well in this department lately. His name's Ray, I think?"

Vallejo nodded, understanding. "Yes, I know him. He seems to be quite the promising rookie, perhaps he'll go pro like Ingrid and Fillmore have—!" he winced at what he just said, but continued anyway. "He seems to have a knack for the job we gave him. Why would you want to have a talk with him, anyway? Something up?"

Frank shook his head slowly. "I was just hoping for a private chat. You know, alone?"

Vallejo looked at him, frowning. Reluctantly, he nodded, sensing something else underneath. "About what?"

"Things," was all Frank answered him with.

"Uh…huh…." Vallejo said slowly. At last, he turned to the room. "Yo Ray, Frank here says he needs to talk to ya," he called to the kid, who was halfway across the room. The boy looked up, startled.

"Me?"

"Yeah, you," Frank said. "just for a moment. It won't take long, I think."

Ray practically dropped everything on the spot. He left a word to a girl (frank assumed she was his partner,) and trotted up to Frank. The profiler took him by the shoulders and steered him into one of the evidence rooms, which were soundproofed.

Frank nearly smirked when he saw the sixth-grader's face. "Geez, kid, don't worry. You're not in trouble… yet…"

Ray blushed and looked down, slightly squirming under the senior officer's gaze. "Then why would someone like you need to talk to someone like me?" he asked. "You're way more important than I am."

The question made Frank pause a moment, thinking. "Ok, so you _might _be in trouble. But I don't think so." He told Ray, making the rookie look up at him. "You see, earlier, Officer Third and I were in the hallway and saw you talking to a few other people." He stated.

Ray frowned in thought for a few moments before realizing what Frank was describing. Slowly, the kid blanched white. "Oh." Was all he said.

"Oh, indeed." Frank repeated, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Tell me, what was that conversation about? And no lying."

Ray opened his mouth, attempting to say something, but nothing came out. He tried again. "Th-they won't leave me alone." He managed finally.

"Who won't leave you alone?" Frank pressed.

Ray hesitated. "There's these people—they say they're from some gang called Shard." He said slowly. "They keep asking me to… I don't know, join them, I guess. But I have this bad feeling that the group isn't exactly—" he paused, searching for the words. "Legal."

"They aren't." Frank answered for him. "But you've made a good decision."

"It's just…" Ray looked down. "They won't leave. I've said no to them a hundred times, and they're still bothering me about it. I don't know if they'll ever leave me alone, and things tell me that it might turn nasty if they don't."

"Why are they bothering you to join?" Frank asked. "I mean, if it's clear that you won't, or if you've said no enough, they'd probably leave you alone, but as you can see, they haven't. so why are they being so persistent?" he asked.

Ray shrugged. "Something about not having a member of the gang in the Safety patrol yet, though I fail to see why that's so important… In fact, having a safety patroller in their ranks would prove bad, wouldn't it? if something happened illegally in the gang, then the safety patrol would have an insider to work with."

"That's true, but they'd be keeping a close eye on you if you joined." Frank muttered to himself. He patted the rookie on the shoulder. "Well, next time you have problems with them, make sure you get their names before standing on their foot. Then we can report them to Folsom."

"I didn't think of that." Ray admitted, shrugging. He looked up into Frank's eyes. "So I'm not in trouble?"

"For doing what you were supposed to do? No." Frank smirked.

"Then maybe I should stomp on their feet more often," Ray muttered to himself.

The comment made Frank smirk. "You know, kid, I like you. You're something else." He said, turning back to the HQ's main office.

-

* * *

-

Once back inside, Ray was called away down to the science labs with his partner, Jamie, to break up a fight that started down there. He and two other pairs of Officers left to do so, leaving Frank to go back to his friends.

He approached Vallejo, eyes flicking over to a nearby clock. "Hey, Vallejo, have you called Wayne back yet?" he demanded his friend.

The boy blinked, remembering, and reached for his walkie-talkie as his eyes also searched the wall for a clock. When he spotted what time it was, he frowned at Frank. "You're going to have to go back to class soon," he said, unclipping the walkie-talkie from his belt.

Frank sighed. "I know, I know," he muttered. "I'm not going to _skip _class or anything," he assured.

Vallejo also sighed, looking out a nearby window. "Yeah, I know that you wouldn't do that, but…" the boy ran his hand through his black curly locks. "I really wish you could stay and help out. You know, three different fights broke out this morning in the hallways again. It would really help if we knew _why." _

"Tensions between the gangs, I suppose," Frank shrugged, offering an explanation.

"And that's not the only thing you could help with." Vallejo added, looking the boy straight in the eye. "You're a good profiler, and we currently don't _have _a profiler on our team. If you would just join the safety patrol again…" he trailed off suggestively.

Frank opened his mouth to say something, but all that he could manage was a sigh. He closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. "I know that's probably what would be best. But the school year's almost over, and I'd hate to break my routine," he sighed. "We're both in eighth grade, Vallejo. You know we're not going to be in this school much longer."

Vallejo also sighed at his friend's words. "I know," he admitted, saying nothing else.

Frank gave his friend a good look-over. He remained silent for a moment. "I'll… think about it." he said slowly.

Vallejo smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I know you will," he said. Frank gave one last look out the window before Vallejo turned away. "I think you should get going. You don't want to miss class."

"Right," Frank agreed. He turned on his heel to go. "I'll be back seventh period. I've got it free." He informed the Junior commisioner.

Suddenly, the walkie-talkie in Vallejo's hand buzzed, startling them both. "Ligget here," the device informed the listeners. "I haven't uncovered anything else. I'm leaving the house now. I'll be back in about ten minutes."

"Oh, good…" Vallejo said, thinking. His voice cracked slightly, showing how surprised he'd been that Wayne had called at that moment. It took him a second to remember what he wanted to say. "Make sure you don't run into Fillmore." He ordered at last.

"Yes sir. And, um…" Wayne paused. "Could you meet me in the evidence room to discuss what I found? I don't think… Ingrid's not there with you, is she?" he asked quickly.

Frank went rigid at the question, his eyes snapping over to Vallejo. The Junior Commissioner frowned at his walkie-talkie. "Actually, I can't. in five minutes I've got a meeting with the student council president." He informed Wayne. "I think he wants to know what's going on with the case so far."

The frown on Vallejo's face deepened as Wayne spoke again. "Oh, yeah. Um, I'll put them in the evidence room. Just… we'll go over them later, ok?"

"O…kay…" Vallejo answered slowly. Something was wrong, and he knew it. He turned to look at Frank, surprised his old partner was still there. "What?" he asked Frank, putting his device down on a nearby desk.

"All right, I'm goin', I'm goin'!" Frank turned on his heel to leave for class. Before going out of the HQ door, though, he stopped by Karen Tehama's desk. Leaning down so he could talk into her ear, he whispered "I need to know the _exact _time that Wayne gets back later." He smirked. "There's a Choco-holia bar in it for you."

"It's a done deal!" The girl answered back quickly. She paused to frown and think for a moment. "Is that no questions asked?"

"Let's just say I think something's fishy, and leave it at that." Frank told the forensics girl. Tehama looked about to protest, but she seemed to rethink the idea.

"All right." she told Frank. "I'll do it. Just make sure I get my chocolate!"

"Sure thing," Frank agreed, "I'll be back seventh period since I don't have class. I'll talk to you then." He told her, and then exited the room.

-

* * *

-

When he came back during late seventh period, Frank noticed that Wayne was already in the room, and so was everyone that had been busy that afternoon, minus Ingrid.

Danny O'Farrell, for instance, was showing off his picture that he'd taken earlier. "This is the guy who was talking to Fillmore!" he explained to Wayne, who was listening. "I don't think they're on friendly terms, but…"

"What were they talking about?" asked Wayne.

"Ragnarok something or other, and the gangs." The redhead said back.

Frank leaned over to get a good look at Danny's picture. He looked the two over head to toe, thinking. _'you know, that guy with the black hair… I've seen him before…'_ thought the boy. _'question is… where?' _

Wayne frowned. "It's pretty clear that whatever's going on with the gangs, Fillmore understands it."

"And that's why they wanted him out of the safety patrol before they made their strike," Frank chimed in, making them look at him. "What? It's the truth. They got him out of the safety patrol because he knew too much about them, and if we could just _talk _to him, we'd already have this case closed, I think," he summed up, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "By the way, Ligget, was your task successful? Did you find the notes?" he asked.

Wayne opened his mouth, pausing. "Vallejo wanted to be the first to look at them," he said quickly.

"Vallejo's busy at the moment," Frank countered, frowning. "I'd like to see them for myself. Where are they?"

"Uh," Wayne paused. "Vallejo's got 'em."

Frank frowned, knowing full well that Wayne was lying. Wayne had said earlier that he would put it in the evidence room. Of course, Wayne didn't know that Frank had been listening, so…

Turning on his heel, he moved closer to Tehama's desk. "Fine, Wayne, but I want to see them later," he told the boy. Once Wayne went back to listening to Danny, Frank leaned in and caught Tehama's attention. He pulled out the Choco-holia bar he'd promised her.

Choco-holia bars were, in one word, amazing. Even Frank, who was _not _a chocolate fan, liked them. Not only were the bars three times as big as a normal candy bar, they were also far more enjoyable. They tasted like heaven in your mouth. That's why, with a bribe of a Choco-holia bar, Frank was sure Tehama would have done anything.

The girl stood as soon as she saw the treat, lunging across her desk to try to grab it. After all, if _Frank _liked a choco-holia bar, and Frank was not a chocolate-lover, then what would Tehama act like, being devoted to Chocolate? She wanted the chocolate bar, it was clear.

Frank held the candy bar above his head, looking at Tehama. "Well?"

"He came in at 1:14!" she said quickly, her hands shooting upwards for the candy bar. "1:14 and six seconds!"

Frank smirked and handed her the gigantic Choco-holia bar. "Wasn't expecting you to count seconds, but…" he tapped his chin, thinking. "That means he came in eleven minutes after he called. Sounds like he didn't take any detours."

Tehama unwrapped her treat, looking at the eighth-grader. "Why would Wayne take a detour?" she asked him, biting into the chocolate. She smiled warmly in pleasure, but turned back to Frank for the answer to her question.

Shrugging, Frank leaned on a desk that was behind him. "To hide the notes somewhere else." He offered as an explanation, making the girl stare at him.

Before Tehama could chase the conversation further, Ingrid came through the door. It was obvious that she wasn't happy, either.

The girl slammed the door and approached the safety patrollers. She looked Frank right in the eye, and spoke. "No one's even HEARD of her, it's like she doesn't exist!" Ingrid fumed, slapping the file of Amelia Shanks down on the table before her. "Not one person I talked to says she's even been in their class. And that's impossible, since she's on file as being in their classes and at the same time has never had a tardy or an absent mark…" she fumed. "I spent the afternoon chasing a ghost!"

Frank blinked at the file. "No one's ever heard of Amelia Shanks?" he asked, curious.

Ingrid sat in a nearby chair, massaging her temples. "No."

"Then how is she even in our database?" Wayne asked, coming over.

"Work of a hacker, probably," Tehama assumed. She clicked her computer on and started typing, bringing up Amelia's electronic file. "Or maybe this is an old file?"

"If it's a hacker, can't you check it?" Anza asked her, looking over the girl's shoulder. "You're good at that kind of thing."

The girl pulled open a drawer from her desk, pulling out a floppy disk. She inserted the object into the floppy drive, turning to Anza. "I can sure try, but it would take a while. Are you sure that she doesn't… exist?" she frowned, looking at Ingrid. "How about that one time when that girl, Alexis… er, Gladys… somebody… disappeared?"

Ingrid shook her head with a sigh. "People could actually _tell _us they knew her. She was simply missing from all the photos, databases and books. This girl… Amelia… no one I talked to her had seen her, heard of her, or noticed her. Not even the teachers."

"I'm going to put my vote down for 'she was an old student'," Wayne shrugged. "Maybe the database is just messed up."

Frank blinked. "Maybe, but…" he trailed off, his eyes catching the clock. A moment later, the school bells rang loudly, signaling the end of the school day. Outside the door, the group heard the thunder of kid's feet as the now-free children flooded the halls. With a sigh, the eighth-grader stood and grabbed his backpack.

Ingrid frowned. "Frank? Where are you going?"

"Piano lessons," he groaned, putting the backpack on. "Mom's making me take them. I've got to go right after school to catch it. and chances are, Dad's going to rope me into helping him build that doghouse again." He sighed, shrugging. "I'm sorry I can't stay."

"It's all right, we understand," Wayne smiled.

The boy headed out the HQ door. "I'll catch up with you later if I can, but I doubt it." he called back, and disappeared out the door.

Vallejo, standing in the doorway to his office, sighed, running a hand through his hair. He'd heard the whole conversation, and again, he was annoyed that they kept running into problems. Would these cases ever get solved? Finding out who Amelia Shanks was, and why she was in the computer system when no one remembered her, was just another problem to work through. Frank leaving was another, he supposed. "Well, that's one less person to figure out this problem," he said to himself. They'd just have to work on their own this time. Raising his voice to speak to the room, he called; "The rest of you? Get working. This problem's not going to figure itself out."

"Right," they nodded, getting to work.

-

* * *

-

It's not like he _wanted _to go to piano lessons.

He didn't even _like _piano.

Frank Bishop sat beside his aging teacher on the bench in front of an overly-large musical instrument. She chatted in the eighth grader's ear as he grumbled mentally over the stupidity of wasting his time at this. After all, when was he ever going to use this 'talent' his teacher claimed that Frank had for piano? There were better ways to spend an hour, he decided.

…Activities like watching paint dry, photocopying pictures of O'Farrell's cat, or seeing how many apples one could skin before one's parents grounded you for jacking up the produce bill, came to mind…

all three of which he had done before, and known that it was a HUGE waste of time.

Ok, scratch that. O'Farrell didn't have a cat. But the other two, he'd tried, and they were boring as hell. And yet, he would rather do any of the three, or even all three, instead of this mindless task of hitting keys on a keyboard.

His teacher tapped the piano her pen that she always carried around with her. The sound brought Frank out of his own bored imagination, bringing it back to the boring reality. "Mr. Bishop, how many times do I have to tell you? Pay attention!" she ordered.

Frank looked away. "Yeah, whatever, Mrs. Skeeter," the boy grumbled, calling his piano teacher's name.

The woman tapped the piano again. "Why can't you see you have a talent for this? You're _good _at piano."

"No, I'm _good _at guessing what note I have to hit next. I'm _good _at profiling, and I'm _good _at playing videogames. I'm _not _good at piano."

The comment made the woman sigh, putting down her pen. "Why can't you be like Andrea Ruthford, the girl I have at 7:00? Andrea Ruthford is such a nice girl, always on time and ready for class. I don't exactly approve of her clothing, but at least she's glad to be at my lessons. Why can't you be?" she asked, making Frank look at her.

"She can't be all _that _great," Frank growled. _'especially since she's in the gang that's trying to ruin X middle school,' _he added in his head.

Mrs. Skeeter, hearing this, sat straight in her chair and started listing off Andrea's good points. "She's always on time. Sometimes she's a bit of a rebel, but she's always practicing. Never complains. She's a brilliant girl. Sure, she's sometimes she's loose headed, but that's all right…" the woman trailed off. "one thing bugs me about her, though, that I'm glad you don't do… she asks that I call her by some other name… what was it… Amy? Or Andy… or perhaps… Amelia… I forget…" she said, more to herself than to Frank.

"Amelia?" Frank bolted up. The kid's mind was working like crazy. "Like Amelia Shanks?"

"Ah, yes, that was it. It's sort of tedious, and she always insists on being called by that name… but the point is that overall, she's a great kid, and you could learn from her." She remembered she was supposed to be trying to change Frank's attitude about piano, and saying that she was a _bad _kid wouldn't help at all.

Frank looked down at the piano keys. "A great kid, riiigghhtt." He drawled. He knew the truth was far from what his teacher played it out to be.

But wait, if Andrea Ruthford WAS Amelia Shanks, then…

Then…

Then the safety patrol had their culprit, didn't they?


	14. It Gets Serious

Don't think of it as four months of neglecting the story… think of it as four months' worth of creative exercise building!

…think of it as four months of me not wringing the necks of the people I live with, out of frustration, because the last month and a half has sucked…

_Note: Please keep in mind that I don't own Fillmore! That I don't own the Mountain Dew© product and/or company! And finally, that I don't own any form of sanity! (explains a lot, doesn't it?)_

**

* * *

**

Ch 14: It Gets Serious 

Frank nearly broke the door down to the HQ when he entered that morning. It was early enough so that he didn't attract too many looks—he'd come in at 6:30, the moment the doors opened at school. Very few people were actually in the HQ at the moment; on a normal week, no one would be there at all. This week, however, most people had extra work, and the early birds decided that six am was a reasonable hour to get things done.

The ill-tempered profiler looked around, his eyes not spotting the face he wanted to find there. He did see a sleepy looking Ray, the boy he'd talked to yesterday about the shard gang. He was next to his partner, Jamie, who was busily putting away files. Despite his bad mood, Frank smirked. Jamie must've dragged Ray in early so they could do their work… there was no way that Ray, who looked like he was asleep in his chair, would be up and at school at 6:30.

Another quick glance, and Frank groaned. Vallejo was obviously not here yet. Of all the days to be late, it had to be today?! Now his only choice was to go into the kid's office and wait it out.

Before going in, Frank decided to take a detour over to the rookie's desk, shooting curious looks at Ray and Jamie. Ray noticed the profiler's presence first, even though his partner was far more awake than he was. The rookie sat up in his sleep-deprived delirium. "Hm?" was all he managed.

"Hey kid," Frank gave him a sympathetic smile. "She drag you here early?"

"Unfortunately." Ray sat back, glad that Frank didn't want anything at the moment. The older kid was just making small talk, apparently. "She said sum'n about…" he paused, then went on. "about needing my statement, 'r som'n." his speech was a drawl, as he began to nod off.

From his bag, Frank produced a mountain dew. He always carried at least three; One was for the beginning of the day, to wake him up, one was for lunchtime, and the last was in emergency, in case he had a test to study for or homework due tomorrow. This bottle he handed to Ray, who looked up at Frank sleepily. "Drink. It'll really help."

"I don't… drink soda…" he admitted slowly, running his thumb across the _Mountain Dew _label.

"Good. Then it'll be more of a shock. You look like you're in need of a wake-up-call." Frank smirked.

A few more blinks were directed towards the liter of mountain dew, then the kid sleepily untwisted the cap and took a few sips. Satisfied, Frank Bishop went over to Vallejo's personal study, unlocked the door with the special set of keys his friend had given him, and left the other safety patrollers behind. Before shutting the door, Frank could've sworn he heard something like "Woah, Ray, you ok? Your eyes are all glazed over…"

Annoyed with Vallejo's "Lateness", Frank dropped into Vallejo's cushy chair, leaning back in the lounger until his eyes could only see ceiling tiles. Honestly, he was with Ray; no one should be up this early. The only reason that he wasn't a half-dead zombie at the moment like the rookie was because a), his mountain dew obsession, and b), the knowledge of Andrea Ruthford had kept him wide awake, listening to the startling clashes of thunder as it rained all night long. He doubted he'd gotten any sleep at all.

Damn that thunderstorm. If a lightning bolt hadn't made the phone lines crash, he would've been able to call Vallejo right away and not bother with it. But nooo, the universe just HAD to be difficult.

Frank's hand slipped instinctively to his backpack, pulling out another mountain dew like the one he'd given to Ray. The profiler twisted open the bottle, hoping it would give him a jolt to keep himself awake. He'd packed his bag full of the caffeinated drink, knowing full well that if he didn't, he'd probably fall asleep in his third period class. Heck, even WITH the mountain dews, he'd probably end up dozing off sometime today.

Now, though, it was silent, and Frank had time to think. It was nice that Vallejo had a soundproofed office. Sometimes he needed it, with how busy the office was some days. And really, Frank had spent the whole night worrying about not being able to tell Vallejo what he knew that he hadn't thought about what the information _meant. _Closing his eyes, the profiler let his thoughts drift over the case.

Fact. The Shard gang had staged thefts that had been slowly getting worse over the month.

Fact. Andrea Ruthford's fingerprint was found in a vent leading to one of the thefts.

Fact. The data said that Amelia Shanks' fingerprint was there, too.

Fact. Andrea and Amelia were the same person.

Conclusion…?

Andrea Ruthford was in the Shard gang.

Frank knew all of this. He knew that "Amelia Shanks" was an alias, a distraction. She wasn't real, only intended to keep Andrea out of the limelight. Now that they'd been asking about Amelia shanks, Andrea would be notified that she was a suspect; that she'd left her fingerprint somewhere. In all likeliness, it would be hard to pin Andrea down; she'd be avoiding them.

And what did it matter that they knew she was in the shard gang? Frank had several dozen videotapes where he could point out tens—no, hundreds!—of people in the shard gang. So what did they have?

They had a way to prove it.

Frank let his thoughts drift on the subject, his eyes growing heavy. Somehow he formulated a plan what to do with the information, and let his mind move on to other things. He must've fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, Vallejo was standing over him, shaking his shoulder.

"Hm?" The kid sat up sleepily.

Vallejo raised an eyebrow at him. "Look, I'm glad that you've decided to hang around the office more, but what are you doing, sleeping in my chair?" his voice was teasing, making his friend groan.

"Look, I don't think I got _any _sleep last night." He told his friend, rubbing his eyes.

"Why not?" A confused Vallejo asked.

Standing, Frank grabbed his bag. He let a hand stray to his temples, rubbing them as he closed his eyes and spoke to his friend. "Well, by sheer chance, I managed to figure out why Ingrid third couldn't find Amelia Shanks yesterday," he informed Vallejo, stepping outside the office. He noted that it was half an hour later; much of the office was filled by now.

Curious, Vallejo followed. "And why would that be?" he asked.

"Yes, Frank, why would that be?"

The two turned, surprised, to find Ingrid third standing near them. Her lips were pursed, and her eyes had a no-humor glare in them. She wasn't going to let this go without answers.

Sighing, Frank put down his backpack and sat in an empty chair. "Well for one, Amelia Shanks isn't a real person."

"Don't be a fool, if she wasn't a real person, she wouldn't be in our databanks." Tehama was the one who interrupted this time, looking offended at Frank's comment. She didn't take criticism to her work lightly.

Frank shook his head. "Wrong!"

Tehama nearly hit him. "Listen, even if she went here years ago, she's still a real person. There's not a file in there that is wrong!"

"Unless it was _created_ to be wrong," Frank said lightly.

Tehama blinked at him for a few seconds, then stood straighter. "What?"

"That account was a false account." Frank told her. "There is no Amelia shanks. There never was. Someone hacked into the system and put that file there, to throw us off track." The boy sat back in his seat.

"Impossible!" Ingrid said, though she didn't seem sure about it.

"And, if I'm allowed to continue my thought… Since this account is false, that means that the only one left is Andrea. It's her fingerprint that we found."

Ingrid stared at him for a moment, then slapped her forehead. "I don't believe this," she moaned.

"Look," Frank sighed, sitting up. "If you compare "Amelia Shanks"'s fingerprint with Andrea's, I'm sure that they'll turn up to be a perfect match. If they aren't, that means I'm wrong. But if I'm right," Frank gave a shrug. "Then we've got some work to do."

Wayne chose that moment to interrupt them. "Hm. So what'd I miss?" he asked lightly, looking between Ingrid and Frank. "It can't be good news, judging by your faces."

With an eye roll, Ingrid took Wayne by the arm and dragged him over to her desk, telling him what Frank had just said. Vallejo turned to his old-time friend. "Why didn't you tell us earlier?" he asked the profiler.

"Phone lines went dead because of that storm," Frank shrugged, giving an explanation. "Otherwise, I would've called you. Now excuse me, I have to do something," he said, heading off. "Besides, it looks like you've got some work to do."

Vallejo sighed, looking over to where Ingrid and Wayne were. Neither seemed very pleased, which really wasn't a good sign. Reluctantly, he and Karen Tehama headed over as Frank walked away.

Satisfied, Frank went back over to Ray. The kid he'd seen earlier was now wide awake, fidgeting in his chair, and his eyes were darting every which way.

Frank approached, and Ray stood. "Need something? Thanks for the boost, by the way," he held out the Mountain dew, which was half gone.

_The kid wasn't lying when he said he didn't drink pop, _Frank mused, giving him a curious look over. The caffeine was making Ray very, very excited.

"You're welcome. Say, I was wondering if you could pull up some files on Andrea Ruthford." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Andrea Ruthford," Ray repeated, taking a clipboard out of his partner's desk. (He was still sitting by her desk, for some reason.) Jamie balked as her partner took her things, but she ignored it after a moment, going back to her work. Ray scribbled the name on the paper, looking at Frank. "A-n-d-r-e-a-space-r-u-t-h-e-f-o-r-d?"

"Take out that last "E"," Frank ordered, pointing to the spelling error.

Nodding, Ray crossed it out and left for his computer.

Satisfied, Frank turned away. Before he made it back to the other safety patrollers, though, something caught his eye. It was the school paper. Curious, Frank picked it up, frowning. With it in hand, he entered the group of safety patrollers again.

"Well, Tehama?" Ingrid asked her friend. "Do they match?"

On Karen Tehama's screen, there were two files; Andrea's and Amelia's. The forensics girl on the team had managed to copy the fingerprint references, attempting to match them up. She was making slight adjustments, but her frown gave away the answer. "They're the same print." She muttered after a moment.

"Guess Frank was right, then," Wayne gave a shrug, looking at the profiler. Upon seeing Frank's expression, Wayne frowned as well. "What's up?"

Instead of saying anything, Frank handed the kid the paper he'd been reading. Warily, Wayne took it, and as he read, his eyes nearly bugged straight out of his head.

"Wayne?" Ingrid asked slowly. "What's wrong? What's it say?"

"It says that… Folsom is…" the kid stuttered, pausing.

Frustrated, Ingrid decided not to wait for his response. She leaned over his shoulder to read, and immediately wished she hadn't. There, on the front page, a title glared at her, which read:

Folsom's job in jeopardy!  
New principal still undecided.

Shocked, her eyes darted down to the actual article, and began reading.

The school board made it clear they were not pleased with Folsom's performance regarding the  
recent delinquency rate at X middle school earlier this week. But the recent development of more  
serious crime than petty thefts have left her job on the Brink. Several students' parents complained  
that their child did not return home yesterday. In Checking out this matter, local authorities found it  
to be true; the children had not yet Returned to their homes. Current suspicion states the kids may  
have been kidnapped, Perhaps while still on school grounds.

The principal's duty of the school is making sure that it runs smoothly, and more importantly, that  
the students are safe, by administering punishment. As Dawn Folsom Has clearly been unable to do  
this over the last few weeks, the School Board is considering firing her, although the actual action  
they take remains to be seen.

However, to ensure the safety of the students from this point on, and to investigate the missing  
children's whereabouts, authorities will be set on X middle School grounds to monitor and regulate  
any threats.

**Continued on 4A. **

The article made Ingrid cringe. "Why do I get this nasty feeling that this is our fault?" she asked Wayne.

The boy's eyes scanned the paper once more, then looked up to her. He paused, not knowing what to say to that question. Instead, he looked down to the paper again, nose scrunching up in a grimace. "Why do _I _get the nasty feeling that the 'authorities' are going to get in the way of our investigation?" Wayne asked bitterly.

"She isn't _fired _yet," Frank pointed out.

Vallejo took the paper from Wayne, reading it. His jaw dropped. "We have to go see her. Now."

"Wait," Ingrid stopped him. "What about Ameli—Andrea?" she corrected herself.

"You know, I still don't understand the whole thing," Danny O'Farrell commented lightly, frowning.

Frank sighed, turning to him. "It was a file created to throw us off her track. We'd realize that we didn't know who Amelia Shanks was, and spend all our time and resources looking for her, and not the real culprit—Andrea." Frank explained to the photographer. "And if we end up asking around about the unknown 'Amelia shanks' the other group would know that we've got Andrea's fingerprints, because that's the only way we'd find Amelia Shanks' file. They know already, my guess."

"Ohhh…" Danny nodded, but frowned again. "What?"

"Do you think the other Shard Gang Members have similar files?" Ingrid asked, frowning.

"Most likely." Frank had to shrug. "But the information puts us ahead. We've got one-up on the Shard gang, and the key is Andrea."

Ingrid blinked, surprised. "How so?"

"Oh, you'll see," Frank smirked. "You'll see. But first," his eyes flickered over to the paper. "You'd better see what's going on with Folsom."

"Right," Wayne, Ingrid, and Vallejo nodded.

-

* * *

-

It wasn't long before Vallejo and Ingrid found their way down the hallway to the principal's door. Behind them, Wayne trudged along, silent but clearly not pleased with where they were going.

Once they reached the door that the three of them knew so well, they paused. Vallejo and Ingrid exchanged glances, not really wanting to intrude, and Wayne hesitating because he simply did not want to be there at all.

Curiosity and worry won over in the end. The seventh grade boy reached out his hand, knocking on the wood, and muttering under his breath something to the effect of "I can't believe I'm doing this WILLINGLY."

When the knock was answered by a loud yet tired "Come in!" Ingrid glanced once more at the group before putting a hand on the doorknob, twisting it so the door slid open with an eerie creek. Nervous, the middle-schoolers cautiously took a glance inside.

Their eyes caught not one, but two figures inside. Folsom was sitting in her desk, her hair pulled back in a ponytail like it had been the last few days, and in front of her desk, a man with dark brown hair stood.

Ingrid had never met the man, but even at first glance, she hated him. Maybe it was the way he was dressed—his dark green tie lay against his ordinary white dress-shirt, and he wore black pants, all of which were crisp and "Professional", like a salesman's. Or perhaps it was his stance; he had his weight shifted to his side, head cocked slightly, staring down the principal with a cocky amusement. Yeah, that was probably it…

Folsom spoke first. "Marlin, I'd say it was nice to talk to you, but it wasn't," she grumbled under her breath. "But now I'll have to ask you to leave. I still have business to attend to." She said, her eyes sliding over to look at the safety patrollers.

"As you wish." The man said lightly. "Good luck with finding the kids, too. It's a _shame _they went missing." he said, and turned to leave. "Don't take it _personally, _though, it would've happened to anyone who's as ill equipped as you."

His tone made Ingrid stiffen in anger. He was, on the surface, being polite, but underneath all the pleasantries, the girl could tell that he was really just being a jerk. She stood aside when he walked closer, allowing him to leave, but the man stopped short.

"It's just a pity that all the other eligible principals aren't able to fill your spot," he said, raising his eyebrow back at Folsom. "…if you get fired, I mean. Most of them have just retired, moved, or taken another job. There's no one left to fill that position… I mean, who's left that would be fit for the job? Me?" he paused and laughed. "Well, it's not like that will ever happen." He said, and left.

Ingrid and the others stepped aside, allowing him to pass. As the door closed behind him, the three moved closer to Folsom's desk. Ingrid glanced backwards towards the door through which the man had left. Seeing it, Folsom smirked.

"Rubs you the wrong way, doesn't he?" she asked, motioning them to sit in the nearby chairs.

Ingrid lowered herself into one. "I don't like him," she muttered quietly.

"You and me both," agreed the woman. "That was Marlin Valdemar, Seventh and Eighth grade science teacher. He's just sore because he and I ran against one another to be the principal of X, and he lost—obviously. It seems to have gotten under his skin…" she spared another grumpy glance to the door.

'_Valdemar…?' _Wondered Ingrid. She'd heard that name before…

After a moment, Folsom's eyes slid back over to the patrollers, taking on an amused glint. "Well, this is new." She mentioned. "Since when do you come down to my office of your own accord?"

"I told you this was a bad idea," Wayne muttered.

"Well you see," Vallejo ignored Wayne's response. "We… heard that some kids… uh…"

"Disappeared." The principal interrupted him.

Vallejo blinked. He hadn't expected Folsom to be _quite _so bitter about it. Dawn Folsom sighed and rubbed her temples, not noticing the younger boy's face. "You heard correctly. There have been several speculations on what happened, though…" she grumbled, more to herself than to the kids.

"Who went missing?" Ingrid asked.

"Would you like me to name all eighty three of them?" The question was sharp and unkind.

Wayne, sensing the annoyed worry in her voice, let his eyes flicker towards the floor. He didn't let the adult see his shock. _Eighty three? _He bit his lip, brain running over the number several times. _How the heck could eighty three people disappear from school? In one afternoon? Surely we would've noticed—! _

Wayne flinched, remembering something. _All those tardy and absent marks yesterday… Tehama wasn't joking… _he thought to himself, remembering the list that Tehama and Anza had been puzzling over the previous day. At least fifty kids reported absent before fourth period…

"Well, I guess they _did _disappear during school hours," he mumbled to himself.

Ingrid heard the mumble, but said nothing. She decided to ask him later. Instead, she turned to the principal. "Is there anything we can do?" she asked.

Folsom dismissed the idea. "No, no. didn't you hear? We've got the police swarming into the school today. I'm sure that they'll handle things fine," she assumed, shaking her head. "Though if you want, I could give you a list of people who are gone…"

"That would be good," Vallejo nodded.

The adult leaned forward, digging some papers out of her desk and handing it to Vallejo. "Here you go," she said, letting the junior commissioner take the packet from her. "Now, you should be getting back. Oh, and one more thing—" she gave them a look. "Don't get in the police's way, all right? I've got enough problems as it is."

The group stood, nodding in agreement. They turned to leave, but Wayne surprised them by turning around.

"Yes, Wayne Ligget?" Dawn asked.

"Are you really getting kicked out of your position?" he asked.

A long pause ensued, which was finally broken by a sigh from Folsom. "It looks that way, kid." She muttered. "I know they say that nothing's 'final' yet, but they're just looking for a replacement principal. Most of the eligible candidates are moving, retired, dead, uninterested, or horrified at the thought of taking over my school… so the search isn't going so well. That means I might have some time here before I get booted out… time to sweet-talk the council into letting me stay…" she leaned back, tapping her foot in thought.

"Good luck, I guess," Wayne gave her a shrug and an encouraging nod, and turned back to the other two, looking slightly perplexed. He, and the other two patrollers, said nothing else as they left through the door.

Once they were outside, Ingrid rounded on Wayne. "You know where the kids went?" she asked, her eyes serious. Sure, she didn't like Folsom, but she didn't want her to get kicked out. And the kids were most likely in danger, though it was tough to think that eighty three could disappear in one day…

Wayne put his hands in his pockets, thinking. "Tehama showed me a list yesterday of all the people who were reported absent before fourth period. There had to be at least fifty people on there."

"I remember that list, too," Vallejo agreed as they headed back to the HQ. "We thought it was a glitch or something." He looked down to the paper in his hands, reading down the list of people who'd disappeared.

Wayne gave a sigh. "You know, it's hard to believe that no one saw anything. Eighty kids don't go missing without one of their abductions—or retreats out of the school—being seen by someone. Or at least being caught on a security camera."

Ingrid paused in her walk, then shot a glance to him. "That's a good thought. Maybe we could look at the surveillance cameras?"

Seeing his chance, Wayne nodded. "Yes. You should check that out." He nodded. "I'll help Vallejo look up the missing kid's profiles. I have to talk to him anyway."

Ingrid raised her eyebrow, and Wayne thought for a moment that she wasn't going to do it. Instead, she compromised. "You know, I think I'll just dump the surveillance tape thing on Tehama or O'Farrell, and look up the missing kids' profiles." She said. When Wayne gave her an odd look, she explained, "Well, I was expecting Roc to PM me again, and I have to be on the computer for that, anyway."

"Gotcha," Wayne nodded, snatching the list from Vallejo's hands, giving it to Ingrid. They entered the HQ door, Vallejo following behind them.

"What was that for? I was _reading _that," the eighth grader pointed out.

As Ingrid left for her desk, Wayne pulled Vallejo aside. "We _really _need to talk," he said flatly.

Vallejo blinked. "About what?"

Wayne's eyes flickered over to Ingrid's receding form, then to the evidence room. Without looking at the Junior commissioner, he muttered under his breath,

"The threat notes from Fillmore's place."

-

* * *

-

As soon as Vallejo entered the evidence room, Wayne turned around and locked the door up tight. The junior commissioner frowned. "Is that really necessary?" he asked.

"The notes are in the corner," Wayne said, avoiding the eighth grader's question.

Vallejo went off, finding the shoebox-sized cartridge that he'd given Wayne when he'd left for Fillmore's house that day. It differed from the other boxes in the room by the fact that there was no evidence label on it, and it wasn't sealed. Carefully, he picked it up and went over to the main table in the room, setting it down and cracking it open. Carefully, the boy looked inside.

Nervously, Wayne Ligget approached. He watched, with some apprehension, as Vallejo put on two gloves; the notes were evidence after all, and the proper precautions had to be taken.

The eighth grader then reached in, pulling out a handful of notes and laying them along the table, so he could see them. Wayne, growing slightly upset, started talking. "I didn't like what they said at all, so it won't be a surprise if you don't like them, either. They're serious, I know they are…" he babbled, wringing his hands. "And they're so… obvious. I should've seen it before…"

Vallejo held up his hand to silence the kid. Once Wayne fell silent, Vallejo let his eyes fall once more on the slips of paper. He sifted through the notes, his eyes darkening as he read them. "These…" he picked up one, inspecting it. He just couldn't believe what it said, and yet… if he'd thought about it, he knew what the threats would be about.

Wayne sighed, looking away. It took a moment to speak again. "There are more of them," he sighed, rubbing his temples. "probably about twenty five or thirty more. All the same."

Vallejo ran his fingers under the words. "I can't believe we didn't see this coming," he sighed, placing the note down on the desk. He stared at the pile. "We can't tell the others, can we?"

"If word got out…" Wayne sighed, tapping his chin in thought. "We definitely can't tell them."

"Can't tell us WHAT?"

Both boys turned sharply at the voice. In the corner, a chair swiveled around, revealing Frank Bishop. He must have been sitting in there since before the two had come in, listening to the conversation silently. Now he stood, walking over. "I thought you were acting suspicious, Wayne," he said lightly. "So I bribed Tehama to make sure you didn't take any detours, and that you stashed the notes where you said you would—the evidence room." He looked at the child out of the corner of his eyes.

"Frank, you really shouldn't-!" the kid started, but Frank silenced him.

"I think I already know what these are about. I can keep a secret." He said, picking up a note on the desk that was folded. "They're threats against Ingrid. Right?"

Vallejo and Wayne both sighed, looking away. Frank unfolded the piece of paper, eyes reading the text before crumpling the paper in his hands grimly. "Yup. Thought so."

There was a short silence, and Wayne spoke up. "Do you want us to tell Ingrid?" he asked warily.

Frank thought it over for a moment. "No," he answered at last, making the two look up at him in surprise. "That would only make her more upset. In case you haven't noticed, she hasn't been acting like herself lately," Frank pointed out.

Wayne nodded, looking down. "She hasn't, has she?"

"And not to mention what the others will do when they hear the news. It's probably best, in this case, to hide the truth." With a sigh, Frank pushed the notes away. "Put those things away in a safe hiding spot," he warned, going over to the door. in one swift motion, he flicked the lights on and unlocked the door. "I've got that rookie Ray working on where to find Andrea Ruthford." He informed them.

Vallejo began loading the papers back into the box. He looked around, finally deciding to just hide the box in plain sight—no one would open it if it had an evidence seal on it, anyways. As he slapped the sticker on the sides of the box, Wayne spoke to Frank. "So, Andrea's working for Shard, right? But we can't prove that. How can we arrest her?"

"We can't," Frank smirked. "Yet."

Just in that moment, the door opened. In the doorway, Ray stood with a clipboard. He peered carefully into the room, and when he spotted Frank, he stood straighter. "Ah, there you are," he commented. "I was looking everywhere for you. I thought you'd left or something." He commented. He paused, then looked from Frank to Wayne, and then to Vallejo. "What's… is something wrong? You're all so tense…"

Frank simply shrugged. "Well?" he asked, ignoring the question.

Ray jumped at the question. "I found it," the rookie informed the upperclassman, showing him the clipboard he carried. "The computer was being a bit slow, though. Are you sure it doesn't have a virus?"

"We're fairly sure," Wayne shrugged. "Tehama would let us know if there WAS a bug in our system."

"Ah well." Ray shrugged as well, giving Frank the clipboard. "That's the list of all the classes and after school activities that Andrea Ruthford has. The times are listed on the right," the rookie pointed it out on the clipboard. "That… IS what you wanted me to get, right?" he asked.

Frank took it from him. "Yes, that's what I wanted," he said, looking over the information. "Hey, she has lunch right now. If the four of us go down to catch her, we won't even have to pull her out of class."

Wayne leaned over his shoulder, reading the file. His eyes glanced upwards to the nearby clock. "You're right, I forgot she has lunch right now. We're in luck if we hurry."

"Sure, that sounds like a great idea!" Vallejo said, picking up his bag. He paused for a moment. "Wait, did you say 'the four of us'?"

Everyone turned to the rookie, Ray. The kid was backing up. "Oh, no, I… I really shouldn't…" he said, eyeing the clipboard he'd handed Frank. "I mean, I know nothing or close to nothing about this case you're working on, only that you asked me to find where she'd be," he motioned to Andrea's file.

"We'll brief you on the way." Frank waved his hand slightly, dismissing the kid's worries. "Besides, you probably know a thing or two about this," he added.

Ray looked at him curiously. "You mean that thing from yesterday? It was just… nothing. Nothing at all."

"You'll do fine. Besides, it'd do you good to get out on the field. Come on." Frank said. And with that, he grabbed up his things and left out the door. Wayne and Vallejo shrugged and did the same. Ray watched them for a moment, then noticed Frank had left the file on the desk—probably intentionally, to make Ray feel as though he had to follow and at least give the file back to him. He shook his head and grabbed up the file, leaving after the three senior officers.

-

* * *

-

It didn't take long to locate Andrea. As they'd predicted, she'd just gotten to the lunch room. With all the kids eating at that time, Wayne was surprised they'd found her so fast, but as they say, never look a gift horse in the mouth…

"What's this about?" She demanded Frank as he pulled her aside. Her eyes looked around suspiciously, falling on Wayne. Then, her face notably whiter, she let out an involuntary "Oh."

"Oh, is right," Frank raised his eyebrow.

"We really need to talk," Wayne said firmly.

Andrea gave him a wide-eyed look. "Here?" she asked.

Wayne shrugged. "Here, there, it doesn't matter," he answered. "We can go to a place with less people, if that's really what you want."

Flustered, Andrea started off in one direction, heading further away from the cafeteria. Briskly, the others followed.

As they slid around the hallway to reach a less public area, Ray's eyes shifted around. His eyes caught the sight of several police officers, who were watching the children with crossed arms. In confusion, he leaned forward and tugged on Frank's arm. When he got the older child's attention, he whispered, "Why are there so many policemen around? Did something happen?"

Frank winced at the question. "A bunch of kids went missing yesterday," the profiler explained in a low tone.

Ray paused, unsure of what Frank meant. Kids, gone missing? Still, it sounded serious, and that made him worry a little. He frowned. "You mean, like, they skipped school?"

"I mean, "Like, they were kidnapped,"," Frank imitated the boy's earlier words. Normally, he wouldn't be so nasty about it, but he wasn't happy about the situation, or the consequences—He didn't like Folsom, but she shouldn't be kicked out over something that she had no control over.

"Kidnapped?" Ray repeated, stiffening in shock. With that, he fell into an uneasy silence.

Frank frowned, wondering if he should've told Ray at all, but his thoughts were interrupted when Andrea turned the corner into an empty hallway and stopped. She pivoted on her foot, turning to face them. "All right," she addressed them, looking slightly nervous.

Wayne took a deep breath. "You know how I said I'd be talking to you again if we ran into some problems?" he asked, and Andrea nodded slowly. "Well, we ran into some problems…"

Frank took the file from Ray, flipping through it. "Tell me," he said quietly, "Is your name Andrea Ruthford?"

Andrea frowned in puzzlement. "Yes, it is…" she said, not knowing where this was going.

"All right." Frank nodded. "Next question. Is your name Amelia Shanks?"

Immediately, Andrea stiffened. "I _thought _I just said that my name was Andrea," she pointed out, her voice wavering. "Apparently, you didn't hear me."

With a sigh, Wayne stepped in. "You know from our last encounter that we found a fingerprint of yours in an area that suggests you were involved in an illegal activity. But the fingerprint program on our computers found two more matches; one of them was someone by the name of Amelia Shanks."

"However," Vallejo jumped in. "When we searched for her, we found nothing; no one knew that Amelia Shanks existed." He gave her a pointed look. "When we went back to her file, we tried to match up her fingerprints with yours. All a perfect match."

Andrea blinked at him, then frowned. "And you think that it's somehow _my _fault?" she asked, her voice raising an octave in annoyance.

"We would like some explanation, if it wasn't you," Wayne said, looking at her evenly. "Do you have any idea how it got there?"

"NO CLUE!" she snapped back. It was clear she was losing her cool. "Why the hell are you BOTHERING me about this?!"

Sighing, Wayne interrupted again. "We are still looking for the culprit in the glass-vandalism case, and the collection convention stealing case as well," he said, only partially lying. Really, they were questioning her for so much more.

Andrea faltered, looking at him. Then suddenly, her voice dropped an octave. "I have an _alibi,_" she pointed out with a shaky voice, making the others look at her.

"Really?"

"I was with Richard!" she said.

Frank frowned. "Who?"

Andrea blew up. "Richard! Richard Johnson! Works in the library! Takes martial arts classes!" she was more than frustrated. She was panicking now. "Ask him. I was studying over at his house until ten o'clock the night before that glass thing happened!"

Frank began tapping his foot in annoyance. "How do we know that he wasn't with you? You two could've done that whole operation together. He could just be covering up for you—while you both are in the same gang."

"I'm not in a gang!" she yelled.

Ray, trying not to attract attention, watched the two bicker from the back of the group. It was hard to think that this would get anywhere. If Andrea didn't admit to her actions, they'd have nothing on her. And yet Frank was still trying… and what had he meant by that last comment? 'A gang'?

Ray's eyes strayed from Frank over to Andrea, and caught sight of a necklace she was wearing. Surprised, his eyebrows kicked up. That necklace—the jewelry that looked like a shard of glass—was an initiation symbol for the shard gang. He'd been sent a few when he'd been asked to join by Shard and his gang members.

Now he saw why Frank wanted him to come along. He DID know something about this case. They suspected that Andrea was in the gang that the Shard gang members had been pestering him to join. The idea turned in his head as he glanced back to Frank. The older boy gave him an amused look. 'What, is he WAITING for me to say something? What can I say?' he thought, tapping his chin. Finally, against his better judgment, he turned to speak. "Don't be ridiculous, she's not going to ADMIT to those crimes. I mean, Shard would kill her if she even opened her mouth on the subject," he shrugged, looking at Andrea. "After all, he can be strict, can't he?" he asked, as though he knew what she was talking about. Andrea spun around to look at him, bewildered.

"You're not wearing yours!" she said quickly, grabbing the necklace around her neck to show what she meant.

"I don't have one." Ray answered back coolly. "But I do have an invitation. And I'll have to say, it doesn't look too good from where I'm standing, does it? He's strict, Shard is." Everyone looked at him for a moment, and Wayne opened his mouth, but Frank pressed a hand on his shoulder, letting Wayne know it was OK to let Ray talk. After all, that's exactly what Frank had wanted from the boy…

"How would YOU know, you've never met him!" Andrea kept on talking, forgetting the others were there.

"But you have. And so has every other member of the shard gang, correct? He gives the orders, you follow. You don't follow through, and he gets angry, and you get in trouble. Now, I imagine that everyone of the shard members I've turned down so far haven't exactly had their share of praises over the last few weeks, have they?" he asked dryly, and Andrea bit her lip. "When I turn them down Shard considers them to have failed. Then, next week, someone else comes in their place. That's because when someone fails, they get in trouble. They get kicked out. When someone makes a mistake, they're through. One strike and you're out. I don't see how anyone can be LOYAL to someone like that. I mean, does anyone have a right to yell at someone because they made a mistake? Everyone makes mistakes. I bet even Shard makes mistakes."

"Yeah…" Andrea nodded slowly. "Yeah! He has no right to yell at me all the time when I've messed up. He does give the orders, so he makes the mistakes! It's HIS fault!" she exclaimed suddenly, and a smile began tugging on Frank's face.

Seeing it, Ray began to press harder. "You do everything you're told, right? And to the best of your ability. Even some things that you aren't told to do, you do. You deserve so much more than what he's offering you."

"I do, don't I?" Andrea wondered aloud.

"What is he offering you, anyways? Money? Everyone knows money isn't everything. With your talent, you could get so much more than money. Fame, fortune, praises where praises are due…" he went on. "He's just holding you back."

"He's holding me back!" Andrea agreed. "He's SCARED that Jason will not be enough, and I'll become his right hand man instead—or right hand woman, or something… and I'll take his place! That I'll become the next leader of the Shard gang! Of course! He's SCARED of me!" she exclaimed, looking upwards in realization. "He's scared of me, just like he's scared of Ryu, the dragon lord!"

"How do you know he's scared of the dragon lord?" Ray asked, trying to keep on the act while uncovering the truth.

Andrea looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. "Well duh, he has to be scared of him. If the boss wasn't so scared of Ryu, he wouldn't have kidnapped all of the dragon gang members and Kaida!" she explained, then immediately saw her mistake. She gasped, then stepped backwards, looking between Ray and the other safety patrollers. "That didn't come out right. what I meant was… was…!"

"Andrea…" Frank warned. "Please just tell us who Shard is."

"No, I can't, he'll… he'll yell at me again, and then…" Andrea shook her head, stepping back more. "I can't… I can't…"

"Andrea, you don't have to be in that gang," Ray said softly. "There's so much more for you than that. Come on, just tell us who Shard is, and you can be free of him." He pleaded.

Andrea looked between the officers, tears welling up in her eyes. "I… I just…" she paused, her eyes flickering to the left, and she hardened. "Y-you can't make me!" she yelled suddenly, then turned and ran.

Wayne looked like he was about to go after her, but Frank threw an arm out to stop him. To the left, the profiler's eyes caught a shadow turning the corner, and he sighed, turning back to Wayne. "Let her go. There's no stopping her. Even if we catch her, we can't make her confess. It's useless." He told the younger kid. Wayne looked to the left as well, his eyes seeing what Frank had saw, and nodded.

Frank then turned to Ray. "Though I have to admit, I'm impressed by your performance." He nodded to the rookie. "See? It wasn't that hard."

"You're with the Shard gang?" Vallejo asked suspiciously, though he knew somehow that Ray was not.

Ray, confirming Vallejo's beliefs, shook his head. "I… I'm sorry. It's just that they've been on my case for weeks…" he paused and took a breath. "They've been sending me invitations to join their gang, through notes at first, but then more and more by meeting me. I've said no, but they're so… persistent."

"What about the Dragon gang?" Wayne asked.

"Hm? Oh." Ray sighed. "Well, I've had a chat or two with their people, too, but the chats weren't so… forceful." He explained. "Still, I said no. it's against my code of conduct, my morals. My aunt was killed by a gang," he sighed, looking away.

"I'm sorry." Wayne put his hand on the boy's shoulder.

After taking a deep breath, Ray shook his head. "It's all right." he told Wayne. He turned to the total of the group. "So… I'm confused. We don't chase after her? Why?" he asked, finally sounding like the rookie he was.

"Let her come to us." Frank explained. "She was really torn about whether to tell us or not, whether we were on her side or not. There's a chance she'll come and willingly tell us what we want to know. Chasing her down will only chase her away." He leaned in. "Besides, Andrea's being watched by her own people," he alluded to the shadow he'd seen earlier. "If she'd said anything now, things would've turned… ugly for us."

Ray paused, beginning to understand. "So we go back to the Headquarters now?" Ray asked, looking around the hallway nervously.

"Well," Vallejo started, thinking. "We don't have to go back right away. It's lunch in about five minutes, we could take off early and get something to eat." Vallejo offered, looking around.

"Yeah, sounds good," Wayne agreed. "Where to?"

"I know just the place," Vallejo grinned, and he began leading the other officers down the hallway.

"So," Frank said once they were moving. He turned to Ray, who looked up curiously into the taller youth's eyes. Frank grinned at him. "How would you feel about becoming a profiler?"

-

* * *

-

They weren't the only ones enjoying their lunch. Ingrid sat at her desk, enjoying the peace in the office for once. For some reason, all the fights in the hallways had died down since yesterday, and most people in the office were already out to lunch. Ingrid herself sat at her desk with her own lunch; a roast beef sandwich, her favorite. She was generally happy because of that, and because she was waiting for a promised PM from Roc. It didn't take long—Roc sent her a message just as she was finishing up with her sandwich.

**Anybody home? **Came the question.

Ingrid put her sandwich down and answered. "Well of course," she typed back, sending it to Roc.

**Of course, **roc repeated. **So what's new? **

"Well, the fact that there's almost no one being busted today. In comparison to yesterday, there's almost no fights in the hallways or anything. It's almost back down to normal." She replied, picking up her sandwich again.

**I figured as much. **The words appeared on the screen. **It makes sense, I suppose. The reason there's no fights, or almost no fights, is mainly because Ragnarok's been decided… **there was a pause in the text, and then another came immediately after.

**I hear there's worse things going on than just an empty HQ on your end. **

Ingrid sighed, typing again. "You'd guess right," she answered with a frown. "We've got a problem concerning missing kids."

There was a pause, and Roc answered her. **How many are missing? **

"There's over a hundred reported absent. We're not sure who's skipping and who's not, but Folsom says there's a fair amount that… well, they didn't return home last night."

**I see. **Roc replied after a moment.

When he said nothing else by the time that Ingrid finished off her sandwich, the girl typed back. "Does this have anything to do with Shard or the stealing case that we're on?" she typed to him.

**Unfortunately, yes. **Roc answered her at last.

**My informants believe that Shard did it. it would make sense, too. Almost all of the kids that were reported absent, they say, were in the Dragon gang. It's a huge impact in the gang's headcount. **

"What? Why?"

there was a pause before the answer came back. **There's a good chance that they're being used as… an advantage. **

"An advantage for what?" Ingrid asked, not liking the looks of this.

**For the upcoming Ragnarok, of course. Everyone's talking about it. **Roc replied almost instantly, almost surprised that she didn't know.

"You mentioned that earlier. What is it?" Ingrid typed to him.

**Ragnarok… how do I explain it? It's supposed to be –the- territorial battle. As in, the all-out deciding factor in who wins and who backs down. They each get together in a designated place, agreed on by the gang leaders, and try to wipe each other out. Gain control over the school. And so far, Shard's got the head start. **

"That doesn't sound good. What happens if Shard wins?"

**The dragon gang backs down, and you'll see the thefts go up nearly two hundred percent, my guess. **His reply came after a moment of thinking about it. **Also, the school's most likely going to close. That seems to be Shard's intent. **

Ingrid shook her head. "No, it isn't. We talked to Neal, and he said that Shard had 'something bigger in mind' than shutting down the school."

**What? **The question was almost shocked. **Wow. Last time, he was trying to shut down the school—we just thought it was the same, this time. I'm going to have to let my informants know that it's different this time around. But the question is… if he isn't trying to shut down the school, what's the reason behind Shard's actions? **Roc asked, confused.

"I don't know." Ingrid admitted. "But we could possibly stop it. Do you have any idea where the kids might be held?"

Roc's words on the screen seemed almost pessimistic when they came back. **There are rumors… but no. **

"Well, THAT'S not good," she commented back lightly, the pit of her stomach sinking more than it already was.

**Oh… I'm… sorry? **Roc apologized.

"Hm…" Ingrid blinked at the screen, something occurring to her. "Hey, what's a Fragment?" She typed before thinking it over.

There was a pause in the text, and Roc answered. **A Fragment? It's an insult. **

"Oh."

**For the Shard gang members. **

"Hm?" Ingrid typed back, confused. "'for the shard gang members'?"

**Well, the two gangs don't like each other, right? So they insult each other every chance they get. I don't know where the heck it came from, but the Dragon Gang members started calling the Shard Gang members "fragments"** answered Roc. **There's something that the Shard gang members call the Dragon Gang members, too… now what was it? **

There was a pause. Ingrid thought back to all the times she'd remembered hearing someone call someone else a 'fragment'. _'so all those people were shard gang members?'_ she thought to herself.

**Ah! I remember. Shard gangsters call the Dragon gang members 'Drags'. **He supplied.** I forgot, I don't hear that one used as often. **There, another pause on Roc's part. **Why do you ask, anyway? **He typed suddenly.

"Oh," Ingrid answered. "I just heard it around the halls a lot. I figured it meant something… they sounded like they were threatening each other or something, and I was curious."

**Hm. You should probably watch your back, if you've been hearing that a lot in the hallways. **the answer came after a moment.

"Don't worry about it," Ingrid scolded.

**Well… **Su-il-en9roc typed. **As long as they didn't say it to YOU, it's fine, I guess. Those words are pretty much a threat, nowadays… just promise me you'll be careful. I'd feel bad if something I said got you in trouble. **

Ingrid blinked at that. "I'll be careful." She agreed. "Now you'd better get back to school." She ordered, eyeing the clock.

**Right,** roc answered after a second, almost as though he didn't notice what time it was. **Bye! **

_-Su-il-en9roc has signed off-_

reading those last few words, Ingrid let out a sigh, leaning back in the comfy chair and swiveling around, her back to the computer. She rubbed her temples, then turned to look out the window.

No answers. Even Roc didn't know where the children were. She DID have new information, but that wasn't enough to get Folsom her job back. What a headache. On top of that, there was the Andrea/Amelia thing, and the Fillmore problem…

Fillmore…

Suddenly, her eyes drifted out of focus, settling on the window. In its reflection, she could clearly see the monitor that was behind her. Though the text was backwards, the genius had no problem reading the words.

Her eyebrows snapped together as she viewed the text. They strained on one particular spot, one specific line: they were focusing on Su-il-en9roc's name—and what was beneath it.

'**those words are pretty much a threat, nowdays…' **

a threat…

Slowly, she stood, her eyes breaking contact with the reflection. Her eyes instead turned to find Fillmore's empty desk beside hers, making her frown. Without warning, she strode over to it, placing one hand on top of the wood while the other opened the upper-right-hand drawer, closest to her.

Sure enough, there on the top of the pile in the drawer she'd opened, sat several slips of paper.

"_Idiocy!" _she snapped at herself, wondering why she hadn't checked there in the first place. Of course there would be threat notes in his desk; if he received them at school, wouldn't that, or his locker, be the place where he'd put them?

Frustrated, she leaned over, plucking a slip of paper from the pile. She opened it and read. It said;

"You saw what happened today. Stay on further, and we won't be so lenient next time."

Ingrid blinked at the message, then ground her teeth. She picked up the most of the other slips of paper and put them in a small handbag to carry. Her determined face turned towards the door, and her voice growled deep in her throat.

"Enough with this. I'm putting an end to it."

-

* * *

-

Confused on why there's notes in Fillmore's desk? Go back and read the end of chapter one. :is tricky:

Otherwise, see you next time!


	15. Confrontation

_Hey, I'm back. And I've brought a chapter with me! _

_Sorry for taking so long on this. There would have been an update earlier, but I ran into some problems. Namely, I underwent major surgery in June. I had scoliosis, if anyone cares—which means my spine grew twisted. To straighten it out, they put rods of steel in my back and, quite frankly, it's left me irritable and unfocused. (wow, look, I actually have an EXCUSE for not updating! Shocker…) Anyway, I just noticed that I should get this chapter __**done **__and __**post**__ it finally, so I did. The next chap will be up before the end of September. Maybe even sooner than that._

_Please notice that during this chapter, there are a few 'backtrack' moments; I tried writing it so that two things happen at once. Just to get your guard up, I'm telling you this; some passages might 'skip around in time' a bit. _

_Oh, by the way, I lied. The next chapter is much too long, so I have to break it up. Instead of the 17 chapters I said there'd be, there'll probably 18 or even 19 chapters. (Geez, every time I turn around, this thing gets LONGER. Why won't it __**end?!**__) So… _

_Gah, one more thing. I'd like to thank Amorye for reviewing every chapter s/he read. It provided a nice insight to what people think (at least that person thought) of each chapter blow-by-blow. Thanks! (This thank-you extends to everyone who's reviewed every single chapter, I just thought I'd mention it now because Amorye read & reviewed all of them one after another. And it reminded me.) _

_Okay, NOW you can get reading!_

Note!: I still don't own Fillmore. What a shame, right?

-

* * *

-

**CH. 15 – Confrontation**

"_I don't care about the risks!" snapped the Master. "I want Derek following Cornelius Fillmore, __**NOW!" **_

"_B-but sir," stammered Jason, his right hand man. "They… have history together." _

"_And –I– have Derek's paycheck." The Master said coolly. "Who do you think he'll listen to… an ex-friend, or me?" _

"…_you." _

"_Good. Now, go put Derek on assignment." The Master ordered. _

_Jason turned to leave with a bow. He reached the door, but paused and turned. "Sir… if we DO find evidence that Cornelius has contacted the Drags, or the Safety Patrol, what do you want done?" _

_The Master leveled a cold gaze at his helper. "If that happens…" _

"_Then tell Derek to take him down." _

-

* * *

-

When they arrived back at the HQ, Wayne sensed that there was something wrong. Sure, it was a rather slow day, and that bothered him, (previously, there had been several fights in the hallways, and the criminals were acting up, so recently the office had been full, not empty…) but it wasn't the main source of worry. But then, what was?

He looked around and realized what was bothering him. "Where's Ingrid?" he asked. Frank and Vallejo, who'd followed him inside, gave a start to the question.

"I don't see her," Vallejo agreed.

"She told me she was waiting for an IM from Roc," Frank supplied, making his way over to her desk. Upon reaching it, he saw that the remains of a chat was on her screen, and frowned as he read it. "She already talked with him. She must've left."

"But where would she go?" Wayne asked, walking up beside her desk. His eyes strayed and he saw Fillmore's desk to the right, and one of the doors was ajar. He frowned, leaning over to open it. Inside, there were a few scrunched up papers, and he picked one up and turned it over—it was another threat note.

Two and two clicked together, and Wayne's eyes went wide. "Oh no," he groaned, dropping the paper back into the desk. "She knows. Ingrid knows."

Frank sent a look to the desk and realized that Fillmore was right. "Then she's gone after Fillmore." he said, a deep frown forming on his face.

Ray looked between the senior officers. "Ingrid Third…? Huh…? Ingrid knows what?" he asked, making the other three blink. They all knew about the threat notes with Fillmore, but Ray didn't have a clue. Instead of telling him the answer, Frank steered the child clear of the situation, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

"So, my successor-in-training," he said, making Ray blink. Frank was alluding to his Profiling job, since Frank wanted to teach Ray the ins and outs of the trade before going off to high school. "Would you do me a favor?"

"I still don't see why you want me to be a profiler," he muttered under his breath.

"We don't have one officially on the force, and you've got one helluv'an eye," Frank clicked his tongue. "Anyway, we've got a list of kids, and we need their files brought up."

Ray eyed him warily. "How many?"

"How many was it?" Frank asked Wayne. "Eighty two?"

"Eighty three." The seventh grader corrected, making Ray go white.

"Uh… ok… why…?" he stammered, knowing he'd never be able to get out of the work.

"Well, you remember when I said there were kids who were kidnapped?" he asked, making Ray look down. "This is the list of kids that went missing yesterday. It would be a good way to start you off as a profiler."

Ray looked at him, confused. "Uh… how will pulling up files help me?" he asked.

Frank grinned. "The key to a proper profiling is to see what the victims have in common, and find the kidnapper's motive. With the more training you get, the more you learn how to envision the actual criminal, not just his motives. But you gotta start somewhere."

This made Ray nod, but his face still frowned, and Frank gave him a questioning look. Finally, the kid sighed. "Weren't they all kidnapped because they were Dragon Gang members?" he asked. Frank's eyebrows kicked up, and Ray explained. "Andrea said that Shard kidnapped 'the dragon gang members'… and someone named Kiada…" he added with a frown. "And Roc says it too."

At this, Frank turned to look at Ingrid's monitor, as Ray pointed to it. On the screen was the chat, still showing the chat room, even though Ingrid's chair was empty. On a cursory reading, the seventh grader frowned.

Frank cut in before Ray could say anything. "There's more connection than them just being Dragons," he said, actually impressed that the kid had caught that. "There are several more people in that gang… why weren't one of _them _taken instead of one of _these _people?" he held up the list, giving it to the kid. "Maybe the Dragons who were taken had similar classes together, or were walking between classes in the same area of the school when they were taken. If you're main base is in the A wing, see," he said, naming the northern corner of the school, "Then you aren't going to abduct someone in the L wing and drag them to the A wing. You're going to take people walking by the A wing, or the B wing."

"Oh." Ray looked down at the kids stupidly.

Frank clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Just find their files, and see what you can do with them. Find as many similarities between them—the similarities don't have to match up for _everyone,_ just most of them."

"And you?" he asked, as Frank let his arm fall. "Where will _you _be going?"

Frank smirked. "Why do you ask?"

"You're obviously giving me this work so I don't _follow _you," the kid said, exasperated. "But what if Andrea comes back or something?"

Frank smirked, raising an eyebrow. Ray was telling the complete truth, and while it was slightly amusing, he also had a point. Instead of telling him anything, Frank tossed him his walkie-talkie. "Anything happens, just drop us a line," he ordered as the rookie caught it. Ray gave him a look that said 'fine, go have your fun,' before sighing and looking down at the list again.

Vallejo walked out with the two of them, not intending to go much further. Still, he turned to his friend. "You and he are a lot alike," he said to Frank, motioning to the door.

"I know." Frank said in that way he always did when he was right. "That's why I scouted him out to fill my position."

His condescending attitude made Vallejo chuckle. _Just like old times, _he thought. He let the laugh die down, then replaced it with a grim look. "The policemen aren't going to like it if you stick your noses anywhere that you don't belong." He said bluntly. "And if you don't get to Fillmore soon enough, Ingrid'll corner him. There's bound to be a fight—with words or with fists, depending on the circumstances."

"Fillmore… he's probably being watched by the Shard gang…" Vallejo sighed. "And if Ingrid confronts him, _alone…_"

"…The threats might come true." Frank finished for him. "I know."

Vallejo took another breath. "Just… if you're going to stick your noses anywhere that they don't belong, be sneaky about it, ok? I don't want to actually _bail you out of jail._" He smirked. "I'm going to stay here and do some research—I caught a rumor at lunch that they've decided on someone to take Folsom's position as principal." He paused and frowned, but then continued. "I'll see what they've decided. Meanwhile, I want _you two _find Ingrid and Fillmore. It'll be one less headache for me."

"We will." Wayne nodded.

"Don' worry about it," Frank drawled, in his rough accent. "Besides you aint my boss… technically, you aint _his _boss, either." He jerked his thumb towards Wayne, a teasing look in his eyes. "What right do you have to order us around?"

Vallejo shook his head, knowing Frank was teasing in his own way. "Just… be careful. Please." He gave them one last look, then smiled at them before disappearing into the HQ once more.

"I know, Vallejo," Frank looked at the closed door. "I know."

-

* * *

She was _furious. _

No, fury didn't even begin to cover it. She was appalled, confused, annoyed, frustrated, upset, fed up, angry. Furious. In her mind, she was ranting off every swearword in all six languages that she knew, and a few more _explicit _ones in her native English. She could barely keep her hands steady on the small black handbag she had with her, which was carrying the threats against Fillmore.

She was blind. She was stupid. She was a fool. How could she not have seen this _coming? _Of all places to look, the desk should've been the first place.

And the note! Oh, whoever wrote it, she could _wring their little neck!_ She felt like she could stab the Shard Gang leader through the heart, even though she knew she never would. But, the fact that it was a threat note was expected. She hadn't been expecting what it had **said**—'you saw what happened today', and even 'we won't be so lenient next time'.

Why did it bother her? Simple. She wasn't sure exactly _what _had happened, but she was sure it had something to do with the Safety Patrol. Shard hadn't been threatening _Fillmore's _wellbeing, like she had previously thought, but _Fillmore's friends. _Anza, and Vallejo, and Karen, and… her.

Which was most likely the reason that Fillmore wasn't talking about it.

The girl's green eyes scanned the room, hoping to find the African-American boy in question. Predictably, she found nothing, but that didn't stop her. She kept on walking, her anger clear in her steps. She'd confront him about this, and he'd _tell _her. Once and for all.

She needed to resolve this, _now. _Before she went insane.

In her anger, she nearly passed a hallway that she'd intended to go down. She stopped, turning, to make her way down to Fillmore's locker, but stopped short when something caught her eye. A dark-skinned person had just disappeared around the corner in front of her. It was a long shot, but maybe…

Maybe it was Fillmore?

In sudden excitement, she turned on her heel and went after him. It was ridiculous to think that it might be Fillmore—there were about two hundred African Americans who attended X—but the way the boy had been moving, walking… she was so _sure _it was him. Even though she'd only gotten a glance.

She turned the corner, seeing ahead of her. A door down the hallway was closing, indicating that someone had just gone through it, though no one else was in the hallway. She decided to take that route. She made her way over to the door, reading the sign on it. _'Storage area—aquatics' _it read.

Ah. Right. the indoor-outdoor pool. O'Farrell had once mentioned that it was a stupid place; that all the pool area was used for was storage area for the swim team, and no one ever used it. She had to agree; why would they waste time with a pool if they didn't use it for anything but a storage area?

With frustration, she shook her head and exited through the door. As she stepped through it, she saw _him _on the other side of the pool.

Cornelius Fillmore.

The boy heard the door open, and he spun to see who had followed him. His eyes landed on Ingrid, and his mouth opened. "Ingrid…?" he asked slowly.

The girl put her hands on her hips. "Just get back from open lunch?" she asked tartly. "I hear that you go home over the lunch hour now."

Fillmore shrugged, turning away. Before he could leave, Ingrid skirted around the poolside, catching up to him and grabbing his arm. "Don't you leave me," she warned. "You owe me an explanation. So stop running away!"

The African-American child frowned, raising a dark eyebrow. "What's there to explain?" he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. His dark eyes wandered around them, looking at the stored boxes and crates that loomed around them in piles. After a moment, he sighed. "So I quit the safety patrol. You already heard all of the story."

"Did I?" Ingrid inquired, stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. "I do wonder."

Fillmore gave her a look. "You came to my house and questioned me, don't you remember? You and Wayne. And I told you—being on the safety patrol was getting more than a little stressful. I just couldn't take it anymore. So I quit."

"And we told you that Frank said… you were being threatened, that if you didn't quit the safety patrol, then…" she left it hanging.

"And _I _told you it was bogus."

"Then you were lying." Ingrid glared at him. When Cornelius said nothing, she sighed and reached into the black bag that she'd brought along with her. "You were lying. I have them right _here._" She pulled her hand out, clutching a piece of paper between her fingers. She held it out for him to see.

Fillmore's eyebrows shot up. "Where—how did you…?!"

"It doesn't matter!" Ingrid interrupted, angry. "The point is, they're _here. _They're REAL!" She waved them in front of his face. "You could've told us you were in trouble! You could've warned us! The safety patrol can take care of themselves! But no, you go off and make me worry about you—I thought that you were being physically threatened, not me and Vallejo and Anza and Tehama!" she snapped. "We can look after ourselves! You should've told us!"

The boy looked between her and the notes she held in her hand. His mouth opened to say something, but he sighed and stepped back. Slowly, he took off his glasses, rubbing his face with a dark skinned hand. "Listen, Ingrid…" he started, his voice tired.

Before he could go on, there was a sound of something shifting above them, and Ingrid looked up just in time to see a box tipping over from the top of a nearby storage pile. "Aah!" startled, both Ingrid and Fillmore moved to avoid being hit. The box tumbled down, between the two of them, and Fillmore and Ingrid had put about ten feet of space in between them. The box missed, bouncing off the floor with a _crack! _And tumbling down into the pool.

Watching the cardboard box that had almost bowled her over, Ingrid clutched her heart, telling it to slow down. It was beating incredibly fast. "What was that about?" she asked no one in particular.

Her eyes strayed over to Fillmore. The boy had turned his face upwards, his glasses now back on his face. He was scanning the storage pile for something; either waiting for another box to fall, or trying to figure out _why _it had fallen.

Their answer showed up not a minute later, as a dark-haired child swung himself up on top of the crates where the box had fallen from. Ingrid's photographic memory recognized him instantly; he was the same boy that O'Farrell had snapped a picture of not too long ago, talking to Fillmore.

With him, flanking him on both sides, three other children appeared. The first was a girl with short hair that had been dyed purple, and the second was a boy with medium long blonde hair. The third was a burly-looking eighth grader who's hair was shaved close to his scalp. The three of them all wore necklaces that looked like a piece of crystal or glass, hanging from their necks.

Ingrid knew very well what those necklaces meant; they were shard gang members.

The green-eyed girl shot a look over to her ex-partner, who was glaring upwards. She'd guessed correctly; Fillmore _did _know them. His face sported a deep frown, and he glared up at them.

"Derek," he muttered under his breath.

-

* * *

-

"Okay," Wayne put his hands on his hips, looking around. "If I were a female genius who just figured out something nasty involving my best friend… where would I be?"

"Looking for your best friend, of course," Frank replied tersely.

"All right… if I were an African-American boy intent on bringing down an underground gangster association so that I could rejoin the Safety Patrol, where would I be?" he asked, making Frank sigh. Wayne tapped his chin. "Do you think I'd be eating lunch?"

"Can I remind you that Fillmore has open lunch?" Frank said flatly, looking at his watch. "If anything, he just got _back _from eating. I doubt he'd be in the cafeteria."

Wayne sighed, leaning back on his heels. After a second, his head snapped up. "Hey, he _does _have open lunch! Maybe we can catch him on the way back from school—we just wait outside his next classroom door!"

"Except, what if Ingrid's already found him?" Frank asked back. "It won't matter if we catch him before his next class if she's already confronted him."

Wayne's face fell. "Oh. Yeah, I guess that's true." He muttered. He glanced around, his eyes scanning the area. "Well, I guess we'll just have to start looking, then, huh?"

Frank groaned and rubbed his face. "I guess," he muttered, mentally groaning at how long this task would take. He sighed and took a deep breath. "But the question is, _where_ do we start looking?"

"How about, in your next class?" a voice interrupted their conversation.

Frank and Wayne turned to see who had spoken. When Wayne spotted the speaker, he winced; it was a police officer—just what they were trying to avoid. And not just any police officer…

It was Officer Langly Turk.

-

* * *

-

"Derek," Cornelius mumbled murderously under his breath.

"Hm. Cornelius. What a surprise. Didn't expect to see you here—isn't this where we met _last _time?" the boy looked around with his blue eyes casually. The two people who'd arrived with him laughed, as though what he'd said was a joke.

When their laughter died down, Ingrid saw Fillmore open his mouth, as if to say something. The kid named Derek didn't let him though.

In a flash, the black-haired teenager was off the pile of boxes, and seemed to just appear next to her. Both Fillmore and Ingrid jumped at his sudden appearance. Threateningly, he grabbed Ingrid's arm, twisting it up slightly. "And who do we have here? This wouldn't happen to be Ingrid Third, would it?" he gave Fillmore a cocky look.

"Hey! Let her go!" Fillmore snapped. "We weren't talking!"

"Huh. Looked that way to me," Derek confessed, giving Ingrid's arm an extra twist. Ingrid frowned and stood on his foot.

"Stop it," she ordered when her captor glared at her.

In response, he twisted her arm back some more. "I don't think you're in any position to be giving orders," he reminded her. Suddenly, Ingrid realized that she was going to be in a whole lot of trouble… if she weren't already in it…

The other two people who'd appeared with Derek found their way off the pile of boxes and stood around Derek, Ingrid, and Fillmore, as though to surround them. They stood with their arms crossed, as the girl with the purple spoke. "Derek, what were the Master's orders if we found Cornelius _breaking the rules?_" she asked, hooking her fingers around her belt loop.

"To Take him down, of course," the second person said.

Ingrid saw something from the corner of her eye and turned to get a better look. Another person was emerging from behind the boxes. "Yo Derek!" the kid called, getting the group's attention. When Derek turned to scowl at the newcomer, Ingrid could only guess that the new boy was from the Dragon gang. He continued, "What are you fragments doing? Picking on innocents now?"

"So you'd think," Derek answered evenly.

"Leave them alone," said the newcomer. "Your fight is with me."

"And me," Fillmore added quietly, earning Derek's attention again. The African American boy frowned deeply. "Leave Ingrid out of this."

Derek studied him for a moment, his eyes hard. They no longer had the mocking air to them. After a second, the boy's blue eyes shifted to the side to land on his cronies. He stared at them for a moment, then jerked his head in the direction of the newcomer. The three other kids turned obediently, advancing on the new boy.

Then, Derek turned back to Fillmore. _"_I'd _love _to fight you, if that's what you want. _But first," _Derek sneered, letting go of Ingrid's arm, turning to give her a cold look. "We have to take care of some _distractions, _don't we?"

Hearing his words, Fillmore gasped. "Ingrid, _run!" _he ordered.

The dark-haired girl stepped backwards, not knowing what to do. She was about to turn and run when she realized that she was cornered; The pool was at her back, and Derek at her front. She took another step backwards, trying to figure a way out of this, when Derek leapt forward, ramming her in the stomach.

Fillmore cried out—or, she _thought _he did, but she couldn't be sure. All the wind went out of her lungs, and she gasped for air as she flew backwards. Her hands reached upwards, hoping to catch something before she crashed into the earth—

Except wait… the pool was behind her.

A second later, her back met water, splashing it in all directions. She took another quick gasp of air before gravity dragged her down in the water…

-

* * *

-

"What's a pair of kids like you doing out here?" Officer Langly Turk asked, raising his eyebrows in fake-surprise. "You _do _know that kids have been disappearing, don't you? You ought to stay inside."

Turk gave them a smug look, and Wayne got the feeling as though they were about to be 'ushered to their next class,' or something close to it. After all, he knew all about Officer Turk because of how often the adult harassed Fillmore. The man was likely to treat them with bias, for being kids. He was about to protest when his companion Frank scowled.

"Buzz off, third-rate," he growled.

Wayne stopped whatever he was going to say to stare at the older boy. _What _had he just called Turk? Yes, they didn't want this adult to get in their way, but he was a _police officer. _He had every right to shoo them off the premises, _and, _officers should at least be respected for their position—there was no reason to be so flat and rude about him getting in their way!

Was there?

"Can I _help _you?" Officer Langly Turk scrunched up his nose at the boy's rudeness.

"Quite honestly? No, you can't," Frank said flatly. "Now get off our case!"

He moved to turn away, but Turk caught him by the shoulder. Once he had the boy's attention, the older officer crossed his arms over his chest, giving the boys a look. "How about _you _get off of _our _case? As in, the missing kids' case?" he asked.

"What?" Wayne asked, his eyes widening.

"You heard me," Turk pressed his finger into Wayne's chest, eyes accusing. "Don't think I don't know who you are, _Wayne Ligget, _and _Frank Bishop,_" he said dangerously. "If I remember correctly, you both are on the safety patrol, along with my little pet project, Cornelius Fillmore. Apparently, they'll let just anyone on the force nowadays…" the adult rubbed his chin in disgust.

Frank snorted. "Actually, you're wrong about that. Neither of us belong to X's safety patrol. So step off, would ya?"

"Nice try kid, I know better." Turk scowled. "Listen, you kids have no ground on this case. We've got this under control, all right? You and your little orange-sash buddies will only end up getting in the _way._" He sneered, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Hey, we've done plenty to earn our keep! The safety patrol isn't that easy, you know!" Wayne burst out. Frank tried to signal the younger boy to be quiet, but he wasn't able to get him to shut up. "You think you know everything just because you're older than us? You don't know the first thing about the case you're working!"

"So you _admit _you're a patroller, or at least working for the Safety Patrol, then?" Turk asked. When all Wayne and Frank gave him were glares, he went on. "Well, I've got one thing to say, kids. I was in the safety patrol in my youth as well, only thirteen years back. I know all about your cases. And yes, finding a youth in trouble is tough work… but I assure you, this is not the same as catching one of your 'smoit counterfeiters'." He gave them both, Particularly Frank, a piercing look. "Kids have _disappeared, _understand? Kidnapping's no match for a botchiball-betting-ring bust, that's for sure. This is the real world, kids, and frankly? _You're out of your league."_

Frank opened his mouth to say something, but then, much to Wayne's surprise, he closed it again. They stared each other down for a moment. And, finally, Frank spoke.

"I know the stakes," he said quietly. "Even if you don't."

"What?!" Turk snapped, voice rising in anger. "How could you say that? I know _far _better at what we're dealing with than some kid ever could—"

"And there you go again!" Frank snapped, cutting the adult off in mid-rant. "You think I don't understand just because I'm a kid? Huh? I'll have you know that I'm not as ignorant as you _think._" Frank balled his fists. "Every kid at this school at the moment is in danger right now. My friends, my _sister, _my _**self. **_Anyone could be next. And I am trying my HARDEST to make sure the count of missing kids doesn't rise. But look at you!"

Frank turned his accusing gaze straight on the adult. "You don't care! How could you? You're too busy sassing off to us and telling us to stay out of your way that you haven't even _considered _that we might be able to help! 'oh, they're just kids, they won't know anything'! Well, I've got news for you buddy, we know _so _much more than you do at the moment, and my guess is, you don't even care! You have 83 people missing, and all you're concerned with is that you're better than us! If you really cared, you'd be looking for any help you could get." Frank spat. "Even if it's from one of _us._"

Turk regarded him for a moment, his face a mix of emotions. He looked partially shocked at Frank's words—okay, _really _shocked—and another part of him looked indecisive. After a moment, he took a breath and his face smoothed out, showing only a steady look. "I think you're bluffing."

"Bluffing?" Wayne repeated, not understanding.

"You _say _you know more in this case than I do. Like what?"

Frank folded his arms. "Let me guess," he began, looking the adult over head-to-toe. "You were assigned at this spot to watch and make sure no one is kidnapped from this spot." Wayne saw Turk's eyes go wider, and Wayne knew Frank had guessed correctly. "Well, do you even know what you're looking for? Do you know who's going to be kidnapped, or who's _doing _the kidnapping?"

"No," Turk scoffed. "If we knew that, the case would be over."

"Oh, you think so."

"Yes." The adult said. "So if you would kindly tell us who the person is that's kidnapping others, then I'll believe you. Oh wait, you can't, can you?" Turk spat.

"Yes we can." Turk's jaw dropped when Wayne interrupted him. The boy spoke. "Shard."

"Well, technically the shard gang _members _have been doing the actual kidnappings, I'm sure, but Shard is their leader, the mastermind behind it all."

The adult blinked. "Shard? That sounds made up." He accused.

"And the people who are being kidnapped are in a rival gang, the Dragon Gang. Of course, that's still a pretty big list, as far as I can tell," Frank added. Then, under his breath, he said, "Though, their next target could be someone from the safety patrol."

Wayne, hearing this, shot a look over to Frank. Was he talking about Fillmore?

Officer Langly Turk looked between the two kids, then frowned. "You're pulling my leg. I've never heard so much rubbish in all my seven years as a Police Officer—!"

"You know what?" Wayne snapped, interrupting him. The southern boy finally lost his patience. He shot an accusing glare and finger at the adult before him. "As far as I can see, Frank's right. We come out and tell you the absolute basic truth, and you just deny it because we're kids. Do you even try to check and see if it's right, or if it holds water? No, you just doubt, doubt, doubt, simply because you're too prideful to admit you're wrong, and we're righ—" he was interrupted when Frank threw a hand out to stop him. "What?" he demanded the eighth grader.

"Ssh!" Frank snapped, his attention elsewhere. He looked to his left, away from the group and towards the east side of the building. Wayne furrowed his brow, trying to see or hear whatever Frank was focusing on.

Then, he heard it. _"Your fight is with me!" _he heard someone snap. It was faint, but clear. Wayne gave a startled glance to Frank, who's eyes were now wide. They knew that voice. They exchanged a look, then they heard some more voices arguing.

"What was…?"

Suddenly, they heard a snarl and a girl scream, followed by a splash. Then, something none of them wanted to hear, and Wayne and Frank knew they were too late.

A familiar voice called out, in pure terror.

"_**Ingrid!" **_

-

* * *

-

"_**Ingrid!"**_ Fillmore cried out, turning away from the dark-haired boy towards the pool.

"Not happening," Derek spat, throwing a punch at his opponent.

Fillmore ducked Derek's punch, bracing himself on the ground. He then sweep-kicked Derek's feet, or more accurately, where Derek's feet _had _been. The boy had jumped, narrowly missing the attack. He landed, and Cornelius wasted no time with another kick, forcing the other child back. This gave the African American time to stand and set himself in a ready stance.

_Damn, _thought Cornelius. _Looks like Derek's going to be keeping me busy… _There was no way around it; he had to spar with Derek. _Of course, it_ _isn't going to be a very fair fight… _his cynical voice added in his head as he turned to face Derek.

Derek, seeing his earlier mistake, clenched his fist. He headed forward, aiming a kick at the dark skinned boy, whom clumsily blocked it. Without hesitation, Derek swung around and kicked again. Fillmore managed to block this one as well, but this kick had more momentum behind it, so it made him slide back a ways.

Seeing that he was in trouble, Fillmore immediately made the switch to offence. He punched rapidly a few times, each time blocked by Derek. All the sudden, he swung around in a round-house kick and caught Derek by the shoulder. The kid flew backwards, skidding to a halt in front of the pool. The sight of the water made Cornelius hesitate, and allowed time for the blue-eyed boy to sit up.

"I see you've gotten better," sneered Derek, brushing some gravel pebbles off his cheek. In the blink of an eye, he was up and next to Fillmore. A punch was thrown, and this time Cornelius was the one staggering backwards.

"Oh, I've gotten more than just _better,_" Fillmore shot back, regaining his balance. With that, the two attacked each other, sending punches and kicks at their opponent.

Fillmore knocked aside a punch aimed at him, and threw a kick. Derek caught his leg, making Cornelius falter a bit. The boy grinned triumphantly. "Did you really think," he taunted, "That you could beat the one who taught you martial arts in the first place?"

Cornelius ground his teeth. "Don't remind me, dolt." He said, letting his torso drop to the floor. He braced his arms on the ground and kicked Derek with his free leg. It landed on his chin, breaking the skin a bit and catching him greatly off guard. Derek let go of his leg, allowing Fillmore once again to get up.

This time, Derek faced him, standing at guard. He stood between the pool and Fillmore, barring any attempts for the African American boy to reach it. Fillmore took a deep breath. Why hadn't Ingrid resurfaced? This was bad…

Fillmore gritted his teeth. He didn't have _time _for this fight! Silently, he knew that he could never beat Derek in a fair battle, anyway. Derek was taller, stronger, and far more experienced than Cornelius himself was. It didn't help that he was distracted, either…

Against his better judgment, Fillmore allowed something to catch his eye. An additional fight closer to the pool was making a racket. Fillmore identified one boy as the kid who'd been tailing him all day, and the other two as those who'd shown up with Derek. The boy who was allied with Fillmore did a sweep-kick, taking one down. The second kid, a girl, jumped onto his back, but she was elbowed hard in the stomach. As the girl keeled over, and the boy pushed her backwards into some nearby boxes.

Fillmore gasped suddenly, ducking. Derek's fist appeared where his face had been. Stupid! How could he get distracted by some other fight? He had his own neck to worry about…

Unfortunately, Fillmore just couldn't keep his head in the game. A second later, he heard a splash by the pool. The mere thought of the pool—of Ingrid—made Fillmore hesitate once more. This time, Derek was ready for it.

In one sharp blow to the head, Fillmore was down. As the African American boy's eyes flickered shut, Derek paused, breathing heavily. A fight was no time for hesitation, but neither was the aftermath. After all, what if some Dragon gang members showed up?

Slowly, he knelt by Fillmore's body. It looked like Fillmore was asleep. He'd learned a lot since their last sparring session. Derek was reluctant to think how that fight could've ended if the kid hadn't been distracted…

Brushing those thoughts from his head, Derek stood, pulling up Fillmore's unconscious form with him. As he made his way to the nearby door, a dark thought passed his mind.

_Just remember I warned you first, Fillmore… _

-

* * *

-

The Dragon gangster who'd come to Fillmore's aid was fighting as well. It was clear that his opponents had no skill in fighting; he easily tossed one over the crates by the pool. The third Shard gangster ran to help his comrade, and he was allowed a breather.

Suddenly, a girl took him from behind. She punched him, he didn't have time to get out of the way. It caught him hard on the shoulder and he faltered. He barely managed to dodge several punches before managing to get a kick in.

_She _was much tougher than the others. She feigned an attack, and when he retreated, she sweep-kicked him. He jumped, catching himself before he fell, and she made her move. She jumped onto his back and latched onto his neck, covering his eyes. He instinctively reached up and grabbed her hair, and she yelped and let go of him.

As soon as his attacker was off his back, the dragon gangster elbowed her hard in the stomach. The action made the girl keel over in pain, and the boy took the chance to send her backwards into a pile of boxes. The girl groaned and tried to sit up, but she was stuck.

The Dragon gangster stood, his blue eyes searching. Immediately he saw Ingrid down in the water, and without hesitation, he kicked off his shoes and dove into the water. He came up ten seconds later, the girl in his arms. Ingrid Third coughed and spat excess water out of her mouth, trying to push her black hair from her eyes.

"Relax, I got'cha," the boy said, swimming over to the edge of the pool. He levered her out of the water and onto the cement, coming after her. Once out of the water, he looked her over.

Ingrid groaned and coughed, still regaining her breath. Derek had completely knocked the wind out of her when he'd pushed her in the pool, and she was having a hard time finding her center again. The dragon gang member stood shakily, still dripping wet, and turned to protect her from any other Shard gang members that may have approached her. His actions felt weak and slow to him—he really wasn't used to fighting when he was wet. His eyes glanced over to where he saw Derek walking out through the nearby door, Fillmore slung over his shoulder. He made a move to go after him, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"What's going on?" a voice asked, and the boy turned to see that the Safety Patroller named Wayne Ligget had somehow come up right behind him. With him stood Frank, who also helped the Safety Patrol. Further away, an adult officer was approaching them at a run. When had they arrived? Just now, probably…

The boy opened his mouth to speak, but the action made the kid realize just how _tired _he felt. He started breathing heavier as he tried again. "There was -huff- a fight, -huff- and…!" he looked down to Ingrid, who was just regaining her senses again. The girl blinked up at him, and then over to Wayne.

"Fillmore was…?" Ingrid asked, unsure. She sat up, running a hand through her soaked locks.

The boy who'd saved her withdrew and sat on the cement, curling up into a ball to help save energy. His eyes flickered once again to the door where Derek had escaped, but as he'd suspected, his eyes found nothing there. The boy covered his face with an open hand. "DL's gonna _kill_ me…" he groaned, shaking from the effort it took to even speak.

Ingrid looked right at him. "Where is Fillmore?" she asked.

For a moment, the boy looked about to tell her, but his eyes flickered downwards.

"I'm sorry."

* * *

-end of chapter-

_Next chapter will be up once I get the last scene fixed and sorted out. It's already half-written, just give me some time. I won't let you down.  
On the other completely-off-topic-note, please review! :D thanks. _


	16. Ragnarok Pending

New Chapter

Here's chapter 16! Hopefully it makes sense. Kinda busy with school and stuff, so I wouldn't be surprised if a part of this was incoherent or something. anyway, please R&R!

_

* * *

  
__Note: there's been a new development in the mystery case! It's coming in now… 'Ave…Aria… does… not… own… fill… more…?' what do you make of it, Watson?_

* * *

**Ch. 16 - Ragnarok Pending**

Derek stalked into the room. A girl, who was waiting for him, rose. She took a glance at the kid slung over his shoulder, then at the damage on Derek himself. She couldn't help it—she smirked. "Getting a little out of shape, are we, Derek?" she teased, alluding to his bruises and the cut across his cheek.

"Shut up." Snapped the boy, going over to one of the cages in the room. There were four—most of them already filled with Dragon Gang members. The last only had one person in it, which meant it was safe to put Fillmore there. Fillmore had a dangerous mind, and if he were put in with the others…

Derek shook the thought from his head. _Never going to happen, _he thought, opening the door. The boy had caught some attention on his way over; now the members of the Dragon Clan were up to the bars to see who the unlucky newcomer was. In annoyance, Derek growled deep in his throat and set Fillmore down roughly on the floor. He heard the boy groan, and the Dragon gangsters began whispering among themselves, seeing who it was Derek had brought in.

With annoyance, Derek stepped out of the containment center and slammed the door behind him. "Stay here and watch them." He snapped to the girl who was on guard duty. "But be upstairs by six. You know that's when Ragnarok's starting."

"Want me to let you know when it's time to go up?" asked the girl courteously.

"I'm not going."

The girl blinked at him. "Fine, if that's what you want," she said instead of protesting. Derek left, and the girl went back to the paper she'd been reading before he'd come in.

Slowly, hearing the whispers of others, Fillmore began to come around. His head pounded, a headache beginning to spread. He absently rolled on his side, clutching his temples in one hand, wishing he could just go back to sleep—had he _been_ asleep?

What made him fully wake up was the awareness that someone was sitting in front of him. The boy sensed it before he saw it; he opened his eyes and wasn't too surprised to find that he was staring at a pair of very small arms and hands. They braced the floor, as though whoever was there was leaning over him to get a better look.

The boy tried to speak, but it came out as a groan. Apparently, the sound startled his visitor, and she flinched. However, she didn't move away. "Um, hi."

_A girl's voice. A YOUNG girl's voice. _Cornelius forced himself to open his eyes entirely, flip on his back, and sit up. (He only managed to sit up partially. He was far too tired.) "W…h… what?" he stammered, trying to regain his senses.

"I, uh, said hello." Cornelius turned to look at the person who'd addressed him, noting with some alarm that he was in a cage or prison of some sort. His eyes landed on the girl who'd spoken.

She was young. That much was obvious. Her light brown hair was barely past her chin, and had cartoon-themed hairclips in it. She also wore very bright-colored clothing and sneakers that were blinking at him; he remembered seeing those types of light-up sneakers on the news; they were very kidlike.

However, after examining her for a moment, the patroller couldn't help but notice that she didn't act too childlike. Her face was strong and intelligent, and she patiently waited for a reply. When she didn't get one, she reluctantly spoke. "So I see that Derek got you, too. Welcome to prison." She muttered bitterly.

Slowly, Fillmore's eyes went out of focus, as he pieced everything together. He began to understand where he was, and vaguely remembered flitting images of being carried through the halls and into some underground passageway, or something similar. So _that's _how he got here, and what was up with the prison-like cages… he was in Shard's hands now.

"You're too young to go to school here," Fillmore commented finally, instead of saying anything about their predicament. Groaning, he sat up all the way. His head was pounding hard, and he could feel bruises forming from his earlier fight against Derek. The pounding in his head was so loud that he had to concentrate on what the girl in front of him was saying.

"Right." The girl nodded. "My name's Kaida. I'm in fourth grade."

"Then why are you _here?_" Fillmore asked.

Kaida frowned. "Leverage." She said bitterly, making Fillmore blink at her. "The person you know as 'The Dragon Lord'? I'm his sister."

Fillmore stared. "I can't believe Shard would stoop so low as to involve you!" he exclaimed.

"I didn't either." Kaida nodded. She looked away. "So, back on topic, are you going to be okay?" she asked.

Fillmore did a quick mental inventory of his injuries. All he found was a few scrapes and several bruises. "Once my head stops pounding, sure," he assured the Asian-looking girl.

She looked at him, and some dragon members, in nearby cages, came as close as their confines would allow. "You Ok?" one of them called.

Fillmore turned to see that he wasn't alone in the room. He found three other cages, full to the brim. His eyes scanned the crowd, and found the person who'd addressed him; Tamal. His eyebrows kicked up. "You're here too?" he asked, surprised.

Tamal shrugged. "Unfortunately. I let my guard down, I guess." He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Seems like you did too. Are you hurt?"

"Only my pride, man," Fillmore folded his arms behind his head and lay back down. "And a few bruises, to add injury to insult." He added, purposely mixing up the old adage.

"Hm. Thomas is going to really get in trouble for not protecting you well enough. Wasn't it Thomas's turn to be tailing you?" Tamal asked. "If so, Ryu's going to _kill _him."

"If Thomas was the guy tailing me, I can't blame him. He was fighting three other guys." The African American boy explained.

Tamal sighed. "Didn't think they'd drag you _or _Kaida into this," he sighed.

Behind his glasses, Fillmore let his eyes close. "I guess this is what I get for playing chess with two opponents," he said lightly.

"Or with a thief who has no morals," Tamal snickered wickedly.

"I do that all the _time, _man." Fillmore pointed out.

"Friends with Tamal?" Kaida asked with a small hint of amusement in her voice.

Fillmore smirked, about to answer, but was interrupted by Tamal. "Hey, while you're over there, could you check to see if Kaida's all right too?" he requested.

The girl shot him a glare. "I already told you, I'm _fine!" _she snapped, reminding Fillmore of Tehama.

"Please?" Tamal begged, ignoring the girl's outburst.

Fillmore shrugged, though he wasn't sure his friend could see it; Fillmore was laying horizontally on the ground, so it might be kinda hard to tell a shrug from him just shifting his weight. "Hey, if the girl _says _she's okay, she's okay."

"That's easy for you to say," a girl beside Tamal huffed. Fillmore recognized her as Tamal's best friend, Carla. "If she gets so much as a scratch, her brother will probably make my life—and my friends' lives—a living misery." Others around him nodded vigorously in agreement.

The safety patroller looked over to the other cage, not bothering to sit up. "Tell me, Tamal, what's Ryu the Dragon Lord _like, _anyway?" Carla's comment had pricked his curiosity.

The blonde boy, Tamal, sat with a sigh. "He's… he's strong, Fillmore."

"…Strong enough to win Ragnarok without all of you guys there to support him?"

Tamal looked down, unsure of what to say. "He'd better be. One-Third of the gang is here." He muttered.

Fillmore sat up again, unable to bite back a groan as his joints creaked painfully. He looked over to the female guarding them. She had her nose buried in the paper still. "Then as much as I'd love to see if he can survive without you guys, I'd rather make sure he wins," Fillmore said quietly, so the guard wouldn't hear. "Think of something. When she leaves, we'll talk."

Tamal looked at the girl, then nodded to Fillmore. He turned to his friends. "All right, guys, keep brainstorming. Who here knows how to pick a lock?" he whispered to the others. The girl guarding them didn't even look up once.

Fillmore laid back down on the cement floor, staring up at the ceiling. He hoped that he and the group could figure out something soon. If what he heard was correct, Ragnarok was only in a few hours, and Ryu would need all the help he could get. Shard could _not _win this battle.

Under _any_ circumstances.

-

* * *

-

Back at the Safety Patrol HQ, Ingrid, Wayne, and Frank and the Dragon Gang member were settled in chairs. Vallejo had come back from his information-quest to find the bad news; Fillmore was in serious trouble. Officer Langly Turk also hung around, along with some other fellow officers he'd called after the fight incident.

As Vallejo participating in trying to hammer out everyone's stories into something he could make some sense out of, most of the group was silent.

"So tell me again—_who _are you?" Vallejo asked the newcomer.

"My name is Thomas Petty." The boy half-sighed in tiredness. He hugged the blanket that was around him; he was still very wet after retrieving Ingrid from the pool. Ingrid also had a similar blanket.

"And you're who?"

Thomas closed his eyes, as though he didn't want to talk. Vallejo guessed the boy was tired from the fight. "I… well, DL assigned me to follow Fillmore around."

"Aha!" Turk jumped up, an accusing finger in Thomas's direction.

"…you know, to keep him safe from the fragments. I mean… the Shard gang members." He corrected himself quickly. He wasn't sure the others had heard the 'fragment' slang.

"Oh." Turk's triumphant smile turned embarrassed.

After a second of silence, Thomas hung his head. "Some job _I _did," he muttered. "DL… Is going… To _kill _me." He said slowly and deliberately.

"'DL'?"

"Um, "Dragon Lord". DL." He clarified.

"Who is the dragon lord?" Frank asked suddenly. Thomas's face hardened.

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you that," he denied.

Frank frowned as well. "Why not?"

"Ragnarok's coming up. I'm _not _going to give Shard any sort of advantage by saying his name aloud." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I just _can't. _I've already screwed up once today… We lost a huge advantage when Cornelius was…" he stopped, unable to go on.

"What do you mean?" Frank pressed.

"He…" Thomas seemed unable to speak for a second. "He… he was in the Shard gang. The _inner circle. _He was giving us updates on all the Shard members that he knew, getting us new info, pulling favors… and above all, getting information through to _you guys. _He had some sort of contact, a go-between for him and the Safety patrol. I think the contact goes by Su-il-en9roc." The others exchanged knowing glances, but Thomas missed it, sighing. "We actually had a chance at winning Ragnarok." The boy shook his head, a fearful look in his eye. "But now… _now… _a third of our team is gone, they've got us way outnumbered _and _outclassed, _and…" _he shook his head again, looking up.

"There's… there's been some speculation that Shard isn't going to hold Ragnarok."

There was a pause of confusion. "That's a good thing though, right?" Wayne jumped in. "No Ragnarok, no fight, no ultimate control of the school."

"Maybe. But the way DL explained it, I'm not so sure." Thomas shrugged heavily. "It's just my opinion, my observations, but I think that Shard might've… found a way to gain control of the school without winning Ragnarok."

There was a heavy silence as everyone stared at him. After a moment, in an attempt to break the ice, Frank said something very obvious.

"That…" he said, "Is very bad."

Thomas sighed angrily, gently kicking the desk before him. "It doesn't matter any more. If he _does _hold Ragnarok, it's in two hours, and there aren't enough of us to win. If he _doesn't _hold Ragnarok, we're doomed anyway, only with less broken bones. Fillmore's gone and we lost." Thomas hung his head.

Vallejo stood, frowning. "Well, I can assure you one thing. If Shard wins and you lose, the Safety Patrol _certainly _isn't just going to stand aside and let him… or her… take over the school. If you lose the battle, then we will just have to help win the war." He moved, picking up a bunch of papers he'd set down prior to the meeting. "What the Safety Patrol needs to do right now, though, is to go support Folsom here at tonight's press conference—that'll be _our _battle tonight."

"Press conference?" Wayne asked, not sure of what Vallejo said.

The junior commissioner slapped the paper onto the desk, and everyone leaned in to read. The document was about Folsom's impending job-firing. The school board had decided to let her hold a 'press conference' to debate whether or not the woman would be able to keep her position. It also mentioned that the other person who would take Folsom's place, should she be fired, would be there to make his own case for becoming the new principal.

"Who might take Folsom's job?" Frank asked, scanning the pages for a name of her competitor. He found none.

Vallejo scrunched up his nose. "Mr. Valdemar," he said with disgust.

Wayne jumped. "Isn't that the snake of a science teacher that we saw in her office when we went to visit? I _hated him!_" the boy protested.

"It says there's student input at the end of the conference," Vallejo said with a shrug. "We're going to go and attend this press conference, to see if we can sway the crowd. If we don't keep Folsom in office, I have no idea how well the Safety Patrol will keep working. And if she gets booted out, we might not be able to support the Dragon Gang's endeavors to suppress Shard, should they lose Ragnarok." He gave a sympathetic look to Thomas.

"Now that's a funny thing," Thomas remarked, reading the paper. "It's being held in the cafeteria? That's where Ragnarok's being held… and… it's the same time as DL said Ragnarok would probably start, too."

"That's… strange. Whaddya make of it, Frank?' Vallejo asked.

Frank opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes zoned out. "The only answer I can come up with sounds completely off base to me, so I'm not going to say it." He said slowly.

As Vallejo prodded Frank into giving him more of an answer, Wayne looked away. His eyes lit on Ingrid Third, who was sitting alone in a nearby chair. She'd effectively distanced herself from the group without anyone noticing. Sure, she sat and listened to their conversation, but her face was blank, and she hadn't said a word since they'd brought her back to the HQ.

Worried, the Tennessee boy walked over to her, pulling up a chair to sit close. "Are you going to be all right?" he asked quietly, so the others wouldn't hear.

"Was it my fault?"

Her quiet, unsure voice startled him. Her question, even moreso. "Your fault?" he repeated, frowning.

The girl began to sway slightly, her face blank. "For getting him into this mess. For confronting him. For getting him kidn—" she stopped abruptly.

Wayne studied her for a long time, debating on what would be the best thing, or the most honest thing, to say. After several long minutes, he came up with the only answer he could give her.

"No."

Ingrid turned, looking at him for the first time. The boy seemed so sure of himself. "Really? Because I confronted him, and… well, if I'd thought about it, I could've figured that he was avoiding us for a _reason_ instead of just out of fear," she began, but Wayne cut her off by holding up his hand.

"No." he repeated firmly. "It's not your fault that he was threatened in the first place. It's not your fault that Fillmore decided to quit." He stared at her. "It's not your fault that he decided to avoid us, to hide the problem. If we'd known about this, don't you think we would've been better prepared? It's not your fault that you wanted to make things the way they were by showing him the notes. It's not your fault that Derek was there when you confronted Fillmore, and it _definitely _isn't your fault that they used you as a reason to attack him. Understand?"

"But… I'm his partner." Ingrid protested after a moment of silence. "I should've realized…"

"It's not your fault." Wayne repeated for the hundredth time. It cut off Ingrid's protest. The girl looked down, her lip quivering slightly. "Listen, if you hadn't confronted him, they would've found another reason to attack. If there's anyone to blame, it's Shard. And _only _Shard. Not you, not me, not Fillmore, not even this Derek guy. Just _Shard._"

Ingrid nodded slightly, and Wayne was surprised to see a small tear slide down her cheek. "I know. I know, I'm not stupid. I know it's his fault. But it's not… it's not… It's not _fair." _She sobbed quietly.

"Oh, come here," Wayne ordered quietly, giving Ingrid a hug. She, surprisingly, hugged back, burying her face in his shoulder. "It's all right. We're here to _make _it fair." He told her soothingly.

It was at that moment that Wayne realized the others had stopped talking. Frank, Vallejo, and Turk were staring at them, while Thomas and the other policeman had turned their backs respectfully, so they wouldn't be staring at the scene. Wayne made a silent conversation with his eyes to let the others know _not _to say anything. And, they silently agreed with nods.

After a few minutes, Ingrid sat up, wiping the tears off her face. "Look… just think of how happy you'll be when we find out who Shard is. I imagine you'll rip him to shreds single-handedly… that would really help the Dragon Gang out!" Wayne offered, making the girl give a small laugh.

Again wiping her face, double checking for tears, the girl stood. "Uh, I'm going to…" she paused, sniffing, "…to get out of these wet clothes. I'm sure that I've got an extra pair of things in my locker or something." She politely excused herself, shedding the blanket draped around her shoulders.

She staggered slightly as she exited the office. Wayne turned back to the group, not saying anything. It was Frank who spoke first, his voice soft.

"Do you see what I'm saying?" he asked, obviously talking to Turk. The older policeman turned to see him more clearly, not speaking. "We know the stakes."

Quietly, the eighth grader turned to stare down Turk. "We told you the truth, and you didn't listen. We might've prevented this, and this whole thing proved that we were telling you the complete and honest truth." He looked to Wayne a second before looking back. "You didn't listen, and now there's another kid missing. Your search for the kids has now increased to 84."

Frank stood slowly, to be more at eye-level with the man. He was still a head shorter than the adult, but for some reason seemed to tower over him. "Well?" he asked, leaning in. "Are you listening now?"

Officer Langly Turk looked at him for several minutes, though it stretched on and felt like hours. The second cop in the room looked between the kid and Turk, unsure of what was going on.

At long last, Turk closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they looked firm.

"I'll talk to my superiors," he said.

-

* * *

-

When it was time, the patrollers, Thomas, and the second guard, left for the press conference. Vallejo informed the group that Danny O'Farrell, Joseph Anza, and Karen Tehama were already down in the conference room, trying to get a good vantage point. They'd meet up with them after the conference.

Turk had left them to talk to his chief commissioner, and have a private word with him over the radio. The second officer had stayed behind, feeling obligated to watch out for the kids; they'd been involved in a fight, after all, and might be targeted again.

Even though they came to the cafeteria press conference a full half-hour early, the place was swarming with people. So much that, even though she tried, Ingrid couldn't spot her other friends from the Safety Patrol. Much of the people who were up front were adults, who buzzed in gossip and angry comments. They weren't happy at all with how the school was running, and it looked like they were ready to start a riot.

Ingrid wondered vaguely why there weren't more cops here in case things got out of hand.

"There's sure a lot of kids here," Wayne's voice broke through to her over the white noise of the people. She looked around, noticing his statement was right. Though all the adults were crowded around the front, the kids hung out in corners or mingled with the adults, mostly hanging out in the back. Many looked as tense as their parents, but hid it better.

Thomas took a deep breath. "I have to go talk to somebody," he said at last. "Give a status report to DL. You know how it is." He shrugged in apology.

"Are these all your friends?" Frank asked before the boy could go.

"No," the boy surprised them. "Lots of them are fragments. Look, you can tell by the necklaces." He pointed to a nearby group, which wore crystalline necklaces. A nearby group wore jewelry that looked like claws or talons.

Frank's lips curled down in a frown when he realized that the cafeteria had seemingly been divided down the middle. To his right, there were Shard gang members, and to his left, Dragons. Each gang member seemed to know exactly where to go. His frown deepened considerably when he did a rough headcount, finding that the Shard members had the Dragons outnumbered at least two-to-one. Shard's group was almost double the size of the Dragon Lord's.

Thomas excused himself, wading into the smaller crowd of Dragon gangsters. Frank's eyes roamed to the right, looking at the sheer size of the Shard Gang. He felt rather cornered at the second, as though he'd just stepped in the line of fire for an all out war. Which, in a way, he had.

_So Ragnarok's going to take place after the press conference, huh? _He thought to himself. As his eyes wandered over the Shard group, Frank couldn't help but look at certain people, wondering which one of them was the ringleader. Each new face he looked at seemed as likely as the next.

One person he _didn't _see was Andrea Ruthford. She unfortunately hadn't come back, and it was likely too late to do anything about it. Ray had seemed frustrated that the girl wasn't showing up, or at the very least, he was worried. Maybe it was because of his own beliefs on Gangs, but the rookie seemed to take Andrea's predicament as a personal issue.

Reminded of the boy, Frank turned to look at him. Ray was busy surveying the scene around, looking slightly ruffled. The older boy couldn't suppress a smirk. Minutes before they'd left for the press conference, Frank remembered the rookie and knocked on the nearby evidence room, telling Ray to come out and help support the Safety Patrol. He went in to find the rookie facing a chalkboard and surrounded by loose papers. On the chalkboard was listed a long stream of names, with data trailing behind it, and the papers lay in assorted messes around him. In the middle of it all, Ray stood with a piece of chalk, staring (with a twitchy eye, no doubt,) at the sheer magnitude of the data he had to process. Like he didn't know where to start.

Sadly, with one glance at the data list, Frank was able to pull out that most of the kids had been abducted between classes while in or near the D wing or the cafeteria, and a fair amount of them had turned up missing after lunch. Ray looked so bewildered at the data though, that Frank hadn't explained. He decided to sympathize with the boy instead, and said simply, 'that's a lot of stuff you got there'.

Ray answered with, 'ya think?' before nearly fainting.

Thankfully, now the kid looked a little more sane and collected. Absently, the rookie ran his fingers through his hair, a gesture that indicated he was trying to calm down. The boy's eyes were calmly watching others, and Frank had an odd feeling that the boy was more of a _people person _kind of profiler than a 'data' person.

Most definitely.

"There's a lot of kids here," Ray commented dully to Frank, when he noticed the senior officer was watching.

"No kidding." Frank stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"They're so restless," he commented, looking around to the left side of the gym, to the Dragon side. "Why are they split into groups again?"

"What?"

"Well, the people over there have Shard necklaces, and over there they have these claw things. I assume they're groups."

"Nice catch kid, didn't think you'd notice."

"So… _why _are they like that?"

"Ragnarok."

"Ragna-who?"

"Nevermind." Frank looked away.

Ray was right. The noise level in the cafeteria was normal for a group this size, but the way the air buzzed was not. Everyone's stances seemed tense, too, and there was no denying things would get ugly. "They _should _have more officers in here, in case a riot breaks out or something," Frank commented to Wayne.

"No kidding," Ingrid pitched in. "Everyone's so restless."

Vallejo shrugged. "A lot is on the line here. A new principal, perhaps, and later, which gang controls the school."

"Um, could you explain to me the whole thing with the gangs, again?" the police officer asked the kids warily, looking around them.

Frank sighed, about to explain, when a man approached the podium at the front. He whacked on the wood with a gavel-like object, calling order. "What, is this a courtroom?"

"About to sentence Folsom to death." Vallejo said, and Frank couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

With some frustration, the group turned back to the man addressing them as he opened up the 'debate/press conference'. Frank didn't quite listen, instead he watched Folsom as she prepared for her speech. On the other side of the stage that the committee had set up for the event, Mr. Valdemar sat calmly in his chair. The man looked smugly out into the crowd, his eyes wandering over the multiple kids that had attended. Suddenly, Frank had the distinct feeling that something was wrong. Red flags were going up in his mind when he looked at the science teacher, but he couldn't tell _why… _

"And now, please turn your questions to Mrs. Folsom, as we begin this press… con… ference?" the man talking slowed down as he talked, looking unsure. Around him, people also began looking around.

It took them a second to notice, but Wayne's eyes kicked up. "Is the ground shaking?" he asked suddenly, turning to Frank.

Just as the boy commented, the shaking beneath their feet grew. Several people almost lost their balance, and a few of the more high-strung people screamed in terror. Several kids pressed themselves against the wall or crouched down low to avoid falling over.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, it slowed and stopped. The walls didn't seem to shake any more, and things became quiet.

As the ground stopped shaking, Wayne got his balance, cautiously looking around him. Most of the people nearby had fallen silent, and were looking around warily, as though waiting for another earthquake. Wayne vaguely thought that he heard a deep crashing noise somewhere below them, but he wasn't sure.

After a moment, people started chatting nervously, and the Tennessee patroller looked to his comrades. "What was that about?"

"Earthquake," Ingrid mumbled, looking down. "I guess the earth's as restless as we are."

"Whatever it was, it wasn't a good omen, that's for sure," Frank pitched in grumpily. "I have a feeling that this day is only going to get worse."

-

* * *

-

"_Are you all right?" _

Fillmore heard the noise and sat up. Someone was calling him, but he couldn't see who; the ceiling seemed to have collapsed. Huge amounts of cement blocks jutted out of the earth, or from above. The Safety Patroller recalled what happened; the fragment guarding the cages had left about an hour ago, and as the Dragon Gang members began discussing how to escape their prisons, the ground had begun to shake.

It hadn't shook hard, which was perplexing. If they'd been anywhere else, Fillmore would've assumed that the earthquake was just a small annoyance. But, surprisingly, as the floor shook, cracks appeared in the ground, and part of the ceiling had collapsed. For a good five minutes, Fillmore had grabbed Kaida and retreated to the far side of the cage, shielding the girl from the falling debris. Now that it was over, he was almost afraid to move.

But, move he did. It was dark, but he could see how much of a wreck the quake had created. "Is this place really that unstable?" he asked to himself, as Kaida, beside him, coughed.

Fillmore noted, with some delight, that the cement blocks that had fallen had pretty much crushed the bars of the cage he and Kaida were in, so they could slip out easily. The elated mood dropped when the patroller noted that he couldn't see his way to the door. Were they blocked in here?

"Seems our cage just got a little bigger," he grumbled to no one in particular. There seemed to be no way to the exit.

"_Hello! Hello? Fillmore! Please, PLEASE just tell me you two aren't dead!" _the familiar voice of Tamal begged from the air again.

Fillmore glanced down to Kaida, who was sitting up in a daze. She looked relatively fine. "Tamal?' he called out, mentally giving a sigh of relief.

"_Fillmore! Where are you—we can't see you through this rubble! Just tell me you and Ryu's sister are okay!" _

"She's fine, I'm fine. I think, anyway." Fillmore motioned to Kaida to move towards the outside of the cage. He crawled between the twisted bars that had made up their confines, then turned to help the girl out. "How are you guys? Is anyone hurt?"

"_Ariel got whacked in the head by something. She might have a concussion! Otherwise, we're fine!" _his voice still sounded distant, and faint.

"Did you get out of your cages? Do you have a way to the outside of the school?" Fillmore went on, raising his voice so they could hear better. He was still searching for a hole in the rubble he could possibly climb through, or at least see the other side.

There was a pause, and several scrambling sounds. "_I __**think**__ so. The door's fine, but what if the hallway collapsed?" _there was a sound of a key scraping in a lock, and the sound of an iron door opening. _"At least the keys are okay, everyone's out of the cages." _The patroller assumed that the fallen cement had opened up at least one of the cages on that side, too.

Fillmore stopped to take in his surroundings. He did a 360 degree turn, looking for an exit of his own. He spotted a nearby hallway that looked fairly in-tact, the one that Derek had gone down. The African American boy doubted it led outside, and a nagging voice told him that Derek might still be down that way.

The boy took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes in thought. There was a lot to consider before he decided anything. But, could he afford to wait that long? "That tremor—was it a full-blown earthquake, would you say?" he asked loudly.

There was some quiet discussion between the Dragon gangsters on the other side, and when Tamal spoke, he seemed very unsure of himself. _"I'm not sure. The ground didn't shake TOO hard, but it's difficult to tell, since the ceiling… you know." _Fillmore looked up to the rubble that separated them.

"_What if… what if there's another one?" _another voice called—it sounded like Carla.

Fillmore took a deep breath, looking over to Kaida. The girl was kicking and pushing a nearby stone that lay between them and the dragon members, attempting to move it. It didn't budge. "Okay, then. Listen up. Tamal, I want you to take everyone over there to the surface, and find those Police Officers that are supposed to be around school. Get 'em down here and help dig out this mess."

"_You want us to leave you down here?" _Tamal demanded, sounding opposed to the idea. _"Carla's right! What if there's another earthquake? What if it's worse?"_

"I am going to take Kaida and we're going to go down the hallway that Derek went down. I don't know where it leads, and I also don't think it goes outside where it's safe. But it's better than nothing. Meanwhile, what are you going to do if you _do _stay? Can you stop an earthquake? Are you going to attempt to dig us out? Yeah right—we need an adult professional for that."

When Tamal didn't speak, Fillmore sighed. "**Listen.** If that was just a tremor, there might be another quake. I want you to get as many people out as possible, it's not safe here—it's obviously unstable." He commented, looking at the amount of damage done from such a small quake. "You take Ariel and get her to the nurse's office or something, and see to it that you're safe. Then come back for us. If this tunnel doesn't end in a dead-end, we'll be out of here and safe… if it does, it'll give you plenty of time to find some way to get us outta here."

"_But…" _Tamal began to protest, but there was some quieter dialogue that Fillmore couldn't hear from this side of the cement pile. The gang members were discussing the course of action. _"…all right. We'll be back—just be safe!" _Tamal ordered after a second.

Fillmore paused for a moment, hearing footsteps trail off. Then he turned to Kaida, eyebrows shooting up. "Shall we?" he asked.

The girl looked at him, then down the hallway. Her eyes looked unsure. "Let's make this quick," she said quietly, grabbing his hand. He hoisted her up in his back, piggy-back style. For a fourth grader, Fillmore was struck by how small and fragile the girl seemed.

"You got that right, sister," Fillmore shrugged as she wrapped her delicate arms loosely around his neck.

"If this is what happens when there's a tremor," he commented, taking one last look at the wreckage they were temporarily leaving behind, "…I'd hate to see what a full-blown earthquake will do."

-

* * *

-

At the debate, Frank was beginning to realize how little he wanted to be here. As Folsom talked, answering questions posed by the school board and the parents, Frank found himself seriously spacing off. He almost missed it when she was finished, and Mr. Valdemar stepped up to the plate after her. Because of Shard, Folsom was in danger of losing her position, but at the same time, the profiler couldn't help but think that this conference was pointless…

"This? This is very boring." He said flatly to Wayne.

"Ssh," Ingrid shushed him. "Valdemar's up next."

Frank frowned, wishing he had something better to do. Why did this have to be a 'press conference'? Why couldn't the school have just supplied some chairs? He was getting tired of standing and doing nothing. It seemed like a waste of time.

In curiosity, he watched the kids around them. The gangs had been growing more and more restless as time went on, casting angry glances at the opposing gang.

Undoubtedly, tensions were rising. Frank just hoped that Valdemar would make his case, get shot down by the council (an unlikely, but welcome possibility,) and they could high-tail it out of here before this "Ragnarok" Thing took place. Frank definitely did not want to be caught in the middle of it.

Something told him, though, that it wasn't going to be that easy…

With a sigh, he turned back, just in time to hear a council member ask the next question.

"If elected, what do you propose to do with the recent problems of kidnappings?"

"Well," the man began. "It's obvious nothing concrete can be done until we find who did it. I intend to have the police stay as long as is needed, and perhaps require the teachers to watch the hallways between periods for suspicious activity—maybe even have children escorted to their next classes if it gets too bad, until we find the culprit…"

"The culprit? The _culprit?" _everyone's eyes shifted to see in the back, a boy (from the Dragon gang, no doubt,) having gotten fed up with the man's words, and made an angry outburst. "We already _know _the freaking' culprit, it's the shard gang! What the hell is it going to do to solve it?"

"You're accusing us? What a typical Drag," a girl from the other side of the cafeteria scoffed.

A dragon girl scowled. "Oh, sure. Of _course _it can't be you guys. I mean, it's completely irrelevant that all the kidnapped children were in the Dragon gang, and they were taken the day before Ragnarok was pending! No-o-o, you guys have no suspicion placed on you at _all!" _

"Sarcasm. Hm." Another Shard gang member snapped. "Well, if you're all so high and mighty, what's the matter? I thought you said you could beat us with your eyes closed."

"Ingrid, let's get out of here," Frank whispered, his voice in a rising panic. He knew what came next; the shouting and arguments would turn into punches and kicks. He'd watched enough videotapes of the gang territorial fights to know that.

The girl turned to Wayne, indecisive. "This is going to turn ugly," she commented, as the noise and accusations grew around them. Somewhere up on the podium, the school board leader was again trying to call order, unsure of what the fight was about in the back. The man had never heard about the 'shard' or 'dragon' gangs, much less knew anything about the situation. And Valdemar, up front, frowned at the interruption but kept quiet.

"We have to stay and help support Folsom, though," Vallejo pointed out. "If we don't, there might not be a safety patrol under the new principal…"

The arguing around them rose. "What typical fragments! Cowards! You kidnap the kids just to get an advantage, because you think you can't beat us fair and square!"

"With your buddies, without your buddies, it makes no difference. You're never going to win."

"This has nothing to do with Ragnarok—_You kidnapped my brother, you bastard!" _

"Would you like to join him?"

"Yall ought to have sum' guts an' put yer money where yer mouth is!"

"You can't call Ragnarok! It's the leader's job! Idiot…"

"So? Vat ish zee point, 'ere? Yew vant ze fight, ve vant ze fight, letz fight!"

"ORDER!" the propter at the front called, unsucessfully. "SETTLE DOWN!"

"Y'know, the French freak's makin' a lot of sense," a boy from the shard side said.

"No! Craig, Shard said not till _after _the press conference."

"So? Not like I've ever seen the dude's face before. If Shard wants it so bad, why don't he just come out an' tell us? I'm in the mood for some butt-whoopin."

"Bring it, Fragment," a girl from the other side snarled.

"_**SILENCE!" **_

The whole side of the Dragon Gang fell completely silent in an instant. The noise, or lack thereof, freaked out the Shard side and made _them _fall silent, too. Adults at the front, who had attended the press conference _for the press conference, _and not Ragnarok, looked between the two groups, equally quiet. The adults had, by now, realized that they were in the middle of some sort of fight, and were wondering what was going to happen.

Out of the eerie silence, there was a small movement in the dragon gang side. Kids were moving away, revealing one person standing in the middle of them all. He had dark brown hair, and stood among the other Dragons with an air of importance about him.

"You guys," Ingrid said, her voice quiet. She stared at the imposing seventh grader that stood among the dragon gang, making the rest silent. "I think… I think that's the Dragon Lord himself…"

"Can _anyone _tell me what is going on here?" The adult in charge demanded angrily.

Ingrid traded glances with Wayne and Frank, realizing slowly that their boss Vallejo, wasn't there. "Where did…?" she began to whisper, but then became silent when she spotted him; the eighth-grader had made it up to the front, and was whispering in principal Folsom's ear. The blonde woman looked stressed and began looking frustrated as Vallejo kept talking. Finally, when the boy stepped away and disappeared into the crowd that surrounded the stage, Folsom spoke up. "It seems you are uninformed, propter," she said, shifting in her seat. "I believe that this uproar is being caused by these two gangs that are running rampant in my school."

The first adult turned to scowl at her. "Gangs?"

"Surely you don't think the only problem in this school is missing kids and missing school supplies, do you?" she asked calmly. "My safety patrol has located two gangs in the school and I've just now been informed that they've decided to meet here."

"That's poppycock," the propter huffed.

"On the contrary," the boy that stood alone in the Dragon gang crowd spoke, starling several others. "We're here. Don't you have eyes? What's so hard to believe that what our principal—our _rightful _principal—says, is true?" when he got no answer from the adult, he turned. "Ladies and Gentlemen of X middle school, I am sorry to inform you that you've walked into something called 'Ragnarok', which is a fancy term meaning a standoff between two gangs. Since it's only fair, I think I'll explain things to you.

"I am Ryu, head of the gang that is called "Dragon". There is a second gang which we are fighting against called the "Shard" gang, and led by someone of the same name. This person, 'Shard', is the one responsible for kidnapping the missing children." At his accusation, several of the adults at the front gasped. "And, tonight, before Ragnarok has a chance to take place," he paused, smirking up at the stage.

"I'll be exposing Shard for who he truly is."

-

* * *

- **EndOfChapter 16**

**Sorry for the wait. and sorry for the cliffie. : I'll see how fast I can get the next chapter up, okay? Until then, please review! I accept constructive criticism. :D**


	17. The Revelation

**Ch. 17. **

_Hey, Avearia here. Sorry for not updating in—what was it, nine months? Yeah, sorry. No surprise, but it's not acceptable. Real life just got in the way. _

_On the plus side, I have a new chapter for you to read. Even better news; it's summer for me. I now have the leisure of doing nothing BUT writing, and finishing this story is number one on my priority list. _

_Okay, taking a moment to self-advertise here: Hey! Come check out the Fillmore Forums! We have a place we can talk about Fillmore now! They're in the upper-right-hand corner when you're viewing all the Fillmore Fanfictions. It's a great place to go and talk about Fillmore, ask questions about the show or your fics, or meet people. Go check it out if you haven't already! …I'm bored there by myself. _

_All right, now that that's done, let's get on with the story! Please R and R! _

-

* * *

-

Ch. 17: The Revelation

The crowd around the stage became more restless as the seconds ticked by. Ingrid was staring at the boy named Ryu, who was explaining to the 'newcomers' (the adults) the whole concept of the gangs, their history in X middle school, and of course, their rivalry. Ingrid had heard none of it, however; she was still in shock at his previous proclamation that he would expose Shard.

As he talked, sometimes the Shard gangsters would snap at them, or butt into the conversation. Things were growing tense as the shard gangsters realized that Ryu wasn't kidding; he knew who Shard was. And that, sadly, might put them at a disadvantage in Ragnarok.

Frank fidgeted, something he rarely did. His instincts were telling him to get out of this place, _now,_ before things got ugly.

Wayne tapped him on the shoulder. "Is he really telling the truth? Does he know who Shard is?" he asked, as Ryu began explaining about how the gangs were shut down the previous year.

"In my experience, I don't think he's bluffing at all," Frank told him.

Ray blinked at the scene, listening closely to what the Dragon Lord had to say. "This year, Shard has passed to a new leader, one who is far more powerful than the previous leader." Ryu said, making the rookie frown. "One thing I am convinced of, though, is that Shard is no fool."

His words made the patrollers blink. "Shard will be at a great disadvantage if he has to be revealed to his own gang by me. Thus, I am giving him a choice." He pointed up towards a nearby clock, that read just seven or eight minutes before Seven O'clock. "When that clock hits Seven, I will reveal who Shard is. If he doesn't come forward by then, that is. Should he be a coward, I may have to reveal him. Shard, you have seven minutes." He announced.

Ingrid turned to the others, frowning. "Seven minutes? Why doesn't he just reveal that person right now?"

"Maybe he thinks it'll be more of a solid proof for Shard to reveal himself than for the Dragon Lord to reveal it for him," Frank speculated. "The Dragon Lord could, in theory, just accuse anyone of being Shard. But if Shard comes out and admits it himself…"

The shouting between the two groups began again, as Shard Gang members and Dragon Gang members began insulting one another. Frank again felt the need to get out of the cafeteria and into a safe place, away from this madhouse.

The rookie, Ray, also stood near them, watching the confusion unfold as accusations were thrown between the two groups. _Wow. Things are getting kinda tense, aren't they? _He wondered to himself. _If only there was a way to end this before it got ugly… _

As though reading his mind, god seemed to answer him. He felt a tap on his shoulder and when he turned, he found himself face-to-face with Andrea Ruthford. Red streaks shown in her eyes, and she was hugging herself tightly, so the boy guessed she'd been crying. Her sudden appearance startled him, and his eyebrows kicked up. "Andrea?" he asked.

Andrea opened her mouth, and her voice was timid and cracked when she spoke. "Can we talk?" she asked quietly. "With you and your friends, I mean."

"Um, of course," agreed the boy. Gently, he tugged on Frank's shirt. When he got the senior officer's attention, he motioned to Andrea. Frank took one look at her and nodded, silently signaling Ingrid and Wayne to follow.

Once outside, Andrea turned slowly to the officers, her eyes not meeting anyone's. She drew in a shaky breath and began. "I know, I know I promised… but this time he's gone too far." She said slowly.

Ray paused. "Who's… 'he'?"

"Shard," answered Andrea, her voice cracking slightly. "The Dragon Lord… he isn't lying. He… Shard _did _take those kids. Or had them kidnapped by us. But it's wrong!" she insisted, her voice earnest and looking Ray straight in the eye. "I mean, I'm ok with taking _objects, _they're… they're _objects. _But PEOPLE? I can't _do _that! I… I can't!"

Ray lay a hand on the panicking girl's shoulder. "It's ok, Andrea. Where are they?" he asked kindly.

Andrea wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. "D-downstairs. Come on, I'll show you the way."

"We should get some other officers. Adults. As much as I hate to say it, we'll have to tell them…" Frank winced. "Though I doubt they'll believe us outright…"

"Do it." Ingrid ordered, nodding. She turned to Ray, her eyes expectant.

"I'll go too," the rookie said, almost reading the girl's mind. "You should see if you can keep things under control in there," he motioned to the cafeteria, where the shouting inside was getting louder by the second.

"You… can't…"

Everyone turned to look at Andrea, who had spoken. "I'm sorry, what?" Ingrid asked.

Andrea rubbed her eyes again. "I s-said you can't. It's… I talked to the Dragon Lord, too. He figured everything out… you know, who Shard was and all. And what his plan was. Ragnarok's eight words away."

"What eight words?" Wayne asked.

The girl drew herself up. "He's going to say "I, the Dragon-Lord, declare this Ragnarok open."" She replied. "The leaders have to call Ragnarok, and Shard sure as hell won't."

Wayne paused. "Who… who is Shard, exactly?" he asked.

The comment made Andrea laugh. "To Hell if I know!" she laughed. "Only people in the inner circle know. And I'm not in the inner circle." She shook her head disapprovingly, as though she expected them to know that. "But seeing as how the Ragnarok's being held HERE, I do have an educated guess…"

At that moment, Frank came through the cafeteria door with two adult police officers trailing behind him, confused. It looked as though Frank had lied to get the officers to follow him, they looked so confused. Ray gave a start at their sudden appearance, blinking. "Ah, right. Um, lead the way, Andrea. We'll follow…" he told the girl.

Andrea nodded and turned, Ray falling into step beside her. They walked a few steps, and turned back. "The Dragon Lord'll be identifying the Shard leader soon. Tell me who he is, ok?" Andrea called back as they went and disappeared down the hallway. The two policemen scrambled after them.

Ingrid blinked. As soon as they were out of sight, she turned around and placed a hand on the door.

"You aren't seriously going back in there, are you?" Frank yelped. Ingrid turned to blink at him; she didn't know he was capable of sounding so surprised.

"Aren't you?" she countered. "I'm curious to see who Shard is."

"I couldn't care less! It's a freaking madhouse in there!" he barked, turning away and folding his arms defiantly. "I'll just wait out here, thanks anyway."

"Suit yourself, as long as your curiosity doesn't bug you to death. In your position, I'd think learning who the Shard leader is—the man that's been causing us grief for _weeks_—would be worth enduring the crowds." Ingrid shrugged and left. Wayne shot Frank a sympathetic look before following her.

Frank stared at the door as it closed. _'Ha, curious? I'm not curious.' _He thought to himself, turning back to the empty hallway. He listened as the commotion inside rose and fell. Annoyed, he began tapping his foot. _'Not curious at all.' _

Slowly, his eyes strayed over to the door. What was going _on _in there, anyway? It sounded like the policemen weren't even _trying _to intervene. Or maybe it was just getting too out of control…

_Stop that, I'm NOT curious. _He demanded himself. He turned away, looking straight down the hallway. Several minutes passed, and he found himself thinking about the cafeteria and the press conference again. Ok, so maybe he was a _little _curious, but that wasn't going to get the best of him. Even though he was curious, he was NOT going to turn around, NOT going to enter the cafeteria, and NOT going to think about doing anything related to seeing who the Shard leader was.

Suddenly, all noise from the cafeteria stopped, making Frank's eyes snap to the door. It was eerily silent for a few moments, and those few moments took quite a toll on the eighth-grader's mind.

"Oh, Damn it all…" muttered the boy, who promptly turned and entered the cafeteria.

-

* * *

-

Somewhere far below the madness in the cafeteria, an African American boy walked, carrying a young-looking girl on his back. They'd been walking for a few minutes, slowly and carefully picking their way across their path. Some of the ceiling had fallen down over here, too, and cracks were in the wall—those worried Cornelius the most, since he didn't know if he was going further into a building that threatened to collapse.

The lighting wasn't all that great, either, since many of the school's flourescent lights had fallen or broken during the mini-earthquake. Some flickered on and off, giving the whole place a creepy look. The poor lighting didn't help their trekk at all, either, as Cornelius kept stumbling over bits of rubble that were invisible in the near-darkness.

Kaida inspected the walls and floors as the african american carried her through the halls. She really hated being carried, like she was some helpless kid who couldn't take care of herself or walk, but she took the 'ride' as a blessing of sorts. She was able to pay attention to her surroundings, which was why she noticed the oddity before her 'babysitter' did.

"It almost looks like we're in the crafter's lab," she commented suddenly. She felt Cornelius give a startled jolt beneath her.

He paused in his trek, looking around himself. He could bearly see in the darkness, his eyes picking out nothing unusual. "Why would you say that?" he asked finally, sounding confused and a bit tired.

Kaida swung her head over his right shoulder, thinking. She pointed to the ground. "There's a mossaic tile pattern on the ground," she pointed out. "When my bro took me down to the crafter's lab to see Tamal last month, I remember the tiles. And the teak door."

Cornelius hesitated. "If you're right, then we're in trouble—I don't recall the crafter's lab having multiple exits."

"I'm sure there's an emergency exit somewhere down there," Kaida contradicted. "But I think we passed an exit already, the one that joins the school to the crafter's lab. If we don't see it soon, we _definitely _passed it."

"Or didn't see it because it was buried," Fillmore speculated. He hesitated for a moment longer, then continued down their way. "So about your brother… why was he visiting Tamal with you?"

"Tamal's the head of the wood carver's department in the crafter's lab," Kaida answered vaguely. After a second of silence, she hugged him tight around the shoulders with a sigh. "And he's in charge of keeping the fragments down there in line. Lots of them are in the glassblowing department. There was a rumor that the shrine was down here somewhere, or that most of the inner circle people are glassblowers, so they would at least know where the shrine was." She explained.

"You were helping him look for the shrine," Fillmore said.

Kaida sighed again. "We thought that if we could find the shrine, we could take the fragments down for good. It had all their personal records in it, just like ours does, and we aren't afraid to turn that information in to the safety patrol or the police. It was a good plan, then." She shook her head. "It doesn't matter now."

A silence fell. Fillmore plodded along, thinking. He'd been in the Shard gang, and knew vaguely about the shrine—that it held all the private records of every illigal thing that happened in the gang, since its foundation two and a half years ago. It also kept records of the gang members and their status within the gang. Only the highest ranking members—the inner circle—of the gang were allowed to see it or even knew where it was.

As a thief, he'd never seen the shrine… he was a good thief, but he was still just a thief. But he had wondered about the shrine often.

Of course, Kaida was right, there was no sense in finding it now, was there? According to what Derek said, Ragnarok was taking place upstairs, possibly at this very moment. There was no guarantee that the dragon gang members had made it up in time to help, or if they even made it up at all. The best that DL could hope for was victory in the Ragnarok, by some slim chance that they managed it.

"Your brother," Cornelius started, still thinking. "Is he a good leader?"

The girl on his back paused. After a second, she answered. "Yes. And he's a good person, too. I think he would give up the gang if it meant having a safe school. I think he's the best one for the job ever." She admitted. Then, she grabbed his shirt tightly. "Don't tell him I said that. I'd never live it down." She ordered.

Cornelius laughed. "You got it," he answered.

Suddenly, he nearly ran into a wall. The thing in front of him was nearly invisible in the dark, as most things were, but he managed to see it in the last second. His face stopped inches from the wood. "What's wrong?" Kaida asked. She hadn't seen the wall either.

Fillmore stood back a step, reaching out in front of him. Yes, there was definitely a wall here—no, it was wood, by it's texture. A door? "There's a door," he told the girl, his hand searching for the knob. The fingertips brushed against the door hinges instead, making him frown in concentration. After several minutes of searching, he found the doorknob and twisted, thankfully finding it open. For a breif second he'd been scared that the door was locked.

Opening it, Fillmore saw that the light wasn't much better in there than here. There _was _a light glow that cast around the room, making exaggerated shadows on everything that had fallen over in the quake. From the glow, Fillmore could see the door a bit better, and so could Kaida. "It's teak," she said, reaching out a hand to touch the wooden door. "I was right. It's the crafter's lab."

Cornelius looked around, noting his surroundings. He'd never been in the basement here before, so he had to take Kaida's word for it. "Where's that light coming from?" he asked instead, eyes straining to see the source. It seemed like there was a light on in another room, a light which bearly reached them.

"The left," Kaida noted. Obediently, Cornelius turned and started making his way to the left, towards the lit portion of their surroundings. He was sort of tired from fumbling around in the dark.

After five minutes, two stumbles, running into a desk of some sort, and getting a skinned knee, they entered a dimly lit hallway. At the end of it, there was clearly a door where the light was all coming from; the light shown underneath and around the cracks of the door, spreading a small, harsh light outlining the door. Cornelius approached it, grabbing at the doorknob that he could bearly see. He twisted, and frowned, frustrated to find that it was locked.

"You got a hairpin or somethin'?" he asked, his fingers searching for the keyhole.

Kaida balked, giving a grunt of indignity. "I wear hair clips, and that's all! What, do you think I'm some sort of girly-girl who has to have her hair perfect all the time or something?" she asked.

"Sorry." Fillmore apollogized, wondering what she meant by that. Carefully setting Kaida down, he searched the floor around him for something to pick the lock with. Maybe Kaida wasn't all that into dresses and dolls? That was the only reason he could find for her snapping like that.

"What are you doing?" she asked him. She could hear him rustling about, but couldn't see what he was up to.

"Searching for something to pick the lock," he answered, his hands feeling through bits of dibris and metal. "Don't touch anything, you might injure yourself."

Finally his hands found a wire of some sort, and he grasped it and pulled. It was rather long, and not connected to anything thankfully—it would've been bad if electricity was running through it or something. He folded it in half and twisted it, making the wire stronger and thicker. "You pick locks?" he heard Kaida ask. He blinked, surprised that she'd deduced what he was up to.

"It's quite simple in theory, really. You just have to get the pins to align." He answered, sticking the warped wire into the lock. He messed around with it for a minute before adding, "In _theory, _anyway. Sometimes it's hard in practice."

"Right." Kaida said, sitting back on her heels. This was going to take a while.

It didn't take nearly as long as she thought it would; a few minutes at best passed and the door clicked. "Gotcha," Fillmore whispered to himself, standing straighter and opening the door. As light flooded around them, Kaida squinted up to Fillmore, who was offering her a hand. "Guess I'm kinda rusty." He admitted.

Kaida accepted the hand and followed him into the room. She immediately recognized it as the glassblowing portion of the crafter's lab, with some shelves on the right and workstations and benches sat on the left.

Fillmore looked around, eyebrows kicking up. From what he could see, it was a classy place. A flourescent light flickered spastically above them, greatly annoying the former safety patroller. It started to give him a headache and wasn't really lighting anything up. Even so, it was more light than they were used to, and it helped him avoid stepping on the broken glass that was around him; many glass pieces had fallen off the shelf in the quake, apparantly.

His instincts told him to stick to the wall, which he did. They were looking for an exit after all, and if there wasn't one in here, there was still the chance that they might find a flashlight or a lamp around here. If worse came to worse, he decided that he could start up a fire to make a torch with or something.

The two kids picked their way around the rubble, hugging the wall and keeping an eye peeled for an 'exit' sign. There _was _a vent, Fillmore noted, which could provide an alternate escape. Of course, it was risky buisness if the quake had knocked the vent loose a bit, so he wasn't too keen on the idea of crawling up it. That, and he didn't know this area's ventallation system too well; he'd never been down here before, anyway.

"Is there an exit anywhere here?" he asked suddenly to Kaida. She gave him a questioning look. "I mean, I've never been down here, but you have. Did you notice an emergency exit anywhere?"

Kaida shuffled her feet, stopping. They were only halfway around the room but had found tnothing. "I never came into _here, _where the glass blowers are. My bro didn't want me to."

"Because of the Shard gang, right," Fillmore sighed as he realized it. "You know, if Shard was really based in the glassblowing area—odd, yes, and ironic considering their name—then don't you think their shrine would be around here somewhere?" he wondered to himself.

"Actually, I was going to ask you…" she began, but paused.

"What?"

Kaida hesitated, then turned to the wall they were closest to. "All the walls have these cracks in them, I'm guessing it's because it's an unstable part of the building," she said, and Fillmore nodded. "But this wall doesn't have any cracks. Isn't that strange?"

Fillmore turned to look. She was indeed right; the wall to the left and right of him were speckled with cracks, but this one didn't. The cracks abruptly stopped at the corners.

"I mean, the only flaw in this wall is that hole there," Kaida went on, pointing. She eyed the wall suspiciously.

Curious, Cornelius stepped forward and looked. There was indeed a hole in the wall, only a few centimeters wide, and sat in the center of a wall, at his height. Upon further inspection, he realized it wasn't a circle, but a small hexagonal shape.

Putting his ear to the wall, Fillmore tapped the plaster, frowning when it sounded hollow to him. He tapped it in multiple places, growing more suspicious by the second. It was rediculus to think, but was it possible that…?

_There was a rumor that the shrine was down here somewhere…_

Slowly, the african american reached into his pocket, pulling out a necklace of some sort. Kaida eyed it, wary. "What's that?" she asked.

"It's a momento," Fillmore answered, examining it in the dim light. "From my earlier days with shard."

It was a shard necklace, that he'd had since last year; it was a membership card for Shard when he was in their ranks. Everyone got identical necklaces. He fingered the shape, its six sides, wondering if it was really that simple.

Kaida blinked. "But you're not a fragment!" she exclaimed; it was clear that she knew what the necklaces meant.

"Not any more," Fillmore shrugged, holding it up. "But I was, a long time ago. Now let's see here…" he grasped the glass shard by the base and leveled it with the hole in the wall, pushing it in with his thumb. It fit.

Suddenly, the wall began to move, and Fillmore reached down to grab Kaida, making sure it wasn't another earthquake. It wasn't. Instead, the wall began to slide back, revealing a door. Kaida and Cornelius watched it in wonder. Both stared at the wall that hadn't really been a wall, trying to comprehend what they'd seen.

The wall had moved to reveal a wall behind it, with a door set in it. This new wall had cracks in it, making Fillmore assume that this was the real wall. But moving walls, secret doors? It seemed like a movie or fantasy, to him.

After a minute of shocked silence, Kaida spoke. "I don't believe it," She said in wonder, mouth agape. "All this time of looking. I can't believe the shrine is actually here…! Impressive, to say the least…"

Fillmore looked at her, surprised. "You think this is the shrine? The Shard's shrine?"

"Tell me you don't." Kaida replied.

Fillmore looked at the door. "I guess I can't argue with that." He sighed. That was the only logical explination at the moment. Shard's shrine was hidden under their noses, built right into a secret area of the school… "Well, do you want to stay here and look for an exit, or go into the shrine?" he asked.

"I think you know," Kaida answered.

And with that, the two proceeded into the shrine.

-

* * *

-

Andrea led Ray and the two officers down the hallway, keeping her pace brisk. She had a little nagging voice in the back of her head, whose voice sounded terribly similar to her fellow gang members' voices, telling her that she was doing the wrong thing and that she was betraying them by showing these people their secret spot. Another part of her, however, was insisting that this had to stop, and that she was the only one who could make it stop. She had a consience, even if she normally chose to ignore it. And her concience was telling her that taking the dragon gang members was _wrong. _

She was a thief… not a kidnapper.

It was much easier to give up her secret than she thought. Maybe it was because of the safety patroller—Ray. She took a quick glance to her side as he followed her. She'd always had good instincts, and that helped her even though she wasn't as smart as everyone else. And her instincts were telling her that this Belt—this safety patroller—was truly, honestly on her side.

She couldn't say the same for the police officers, though. On the way, Ray had explained a few things such as where they were going; but she got the feeling the officers were skeptical. At the very least, they weren't well informed… they kept asking questions about the gangs and the 'Ragnarok thing', as they put it, that was about to take place. A small part of her smiled inside when she realized that the eleven, twelve, and thirteen year old Safety Patrollers knew more about the situation than the adult Officers did.

"So, the kids who went missing were from the Shard gang?" one officer asked.

"No, the missing kids are from the _dragon _gang. The Shard gang took them because they're about to have a fight, and they wanted to increase their numbers." Ray corrected them.

"Okay," the second officer, who was shorter than the first, said. "And we're going to find them… how?"

"Andrea here knows…" Ray paused, thinking. "She's _aquainted _with the people who did the kidnapping. She found out where they're being kept."

"I see," said the first officer, glancing at Andrea. Andrea herself wondered why Ray hadn't told them the full truth… that she was in the same gang that kidnapped the kids. Was he trying to protect her? Before she could continue the thought, the officer went on. "So, where are we going, exactly?"

"They should just be up this hallway a little further," Andrea insisted, picking up the pace. They were already in the basement, near the crafter's lab. It was a place she knew by heart. "We turn the corner, and twenty tiles down, there's a secret passageway, and a secret door. You go through there, and there's a holding place for…" the words stopped in her throat as they turned the corner to find nothing but a mess. "Oh no."

In front of her, the ceiling seemed to have collapsed. I-beams and cement collumns mixed in with the remains of wires and florecent lights, filling the corridor and blocking off their entrance. She stared, wide-eyed at it, unsure of what to make of their new problem.

"Don't tell me that itty-bitty earthquake from earlier caused this?" Ray whispered, looking over to Andrea in confusion.

"This don't look like a seecret passage way," the shorter officer said. He looked at Andrea. "It looks like the ceiling came down."

Andrea approached, counting the tiles as she walked. "Eight… nine… ten…" she reached the rubble and placed her hand on it. "The passageway is blocked off by this rubble. We can't get through this way… but how did…?" she motioned up to the ceiling, jumping a bit when a little plaster fell down nearby.

"It must have been the earthquake," Ray and the taller officer said at the same time. They exchanged a glance before the adult went on. "You said the kids are over here?" he asked slowly.

Andrea's stomach dropped. "Oh my gosh, what if they're trapped?" she panicked suddenly, whirling around to look at the mound of concrete, metal and plaster that blocked their way. "What if they got crushed? What if they're hurt? What if they…!"

"Andrea, calm down," Ray ordered, putting his hand on her shoulder. Andrea's breathing slowed to a normal rate, and she looked at him. "Are the kids in the crafter's lab?" he asked.

Taking a deep breath, Andrea thought about it. "No," she said finally. "The passageway, it… it doubles back, eastward," she pointed at the wall, something occuring to her. "It's a long hallway. Maybe this collapse didn't happen down there. But what if it did? What if…"

"No what ifs," Ray cut her off before she could panic again.

Andrea nodded, still thinking. "Um… well, anyway, it's east of here. And… Oh!" she said, perking up. "It opens up into the D wing, there's another, lesser known entrance. I never use it…" She nodded to herself. "I can do that. Come on, I'll show you the other way. There's two ways into this thing." She informed the group, backtracking the way they'd come. Silently, the girl hoped that _that _way wasn't blocked, too.

Ray and the police officers followed her, as they went up a few stairs and circled around the hallway to the left. It was a brisk walk, and within minutes they were in the D wing. Andrea led them over to a corner, by a janitor's closet. It was small, and out of the way from the hallway; it looked like somewhere no one would think to go. Andrea stood facing the wall, and was counting the bricks there, but Ray was distracted; he looked down the hallway. There was a lot of noise echoing in the halls, seeming to come from the cafeteria. It reminded Ray of the chaos the place had been in when they left, and he vaguely wondered if the kids had begun to fight—he could tell they _wanted _to.

"Aha," Andrea said quietly, drawing Ray's attention back to the present. She peeled back one of the tiles that were on the wall, much to the other three's surprise. Under it, it was hollow, and there was a doorknob. Andrea handed the tile to one of the officers, pulling out a key from her pants pocket. "This one's a secret entrance. The door is almost always locked, but…"

"Hold up," Ray said. Andrea fell silent, looking confused. The other officers looked at him. "Do you hear something?" he asked.

"Yeah, the commotion from the cafeteria is really loud, we can hear it all the way over here," the shorter policeman answered.

Ray shook his head. "No, I mean, from behind the wall." He pointed to where the doorknob was.

Everyone concentrated, straining to hear. Sure enough, they did hear a 'bump', after listening for a second. Perplexed, Andrea and Ray exchanged a glance and both put their ears to the wall. There _was _a sound coming from the other side…

"_Stop running into the door, I told you it wouldn't work!" _a girl's voice, bearly audible, reached their ears. There was a jingling of some sort.

"_Well then, hurry up and find the right __**key **__already!" _A boy answered in a yell. He mumbled something, but it was too quiet to hear through the wall.

Andrea knocked on the door, and heard a collective shreik from the other side of the wall—she'd surprised them. "Hey," she called. "Is someone behind there?"

"Who want's to know?" the boy's voice called, louder this time. He sounded defensive.

Andrea paused. "Andrea Ruthford!" she said, then realized they wouldn't know her. "Uh, I'm with three officers! Well, two—Two officers and a guy from the safety patrol!" She bit her lip, hoping she wasn't talking to her fellow shard gang members; they'd get her in trouble for sure.

There was silence for a moment, as a few more bumps were heard. "O-Okay, then," the boy called. "The door's locked! We can't get it open."

"I have a key," Andrea said without thinking.

"…Why do you have a key?" a girl's voice called, sounding suspicious.

Andrea and Ray exchanged a glance, and Ray spoke. "Don't mind that," he said, making andrea feel releived. "Just stand back. We're going to open the door."

Andrea inserted her key into the lock, and opened the door. The tiles cracked, revealing the passageway that was almost impossible for a passerby to spot. It opened, revealing an odd thirty or fourty kids.

The Dragon gangsters stumbled out, taking a sigh of releif as they stepped out of the narrow passageway they'd been in. At the front of the group there was a boy; tall, with blonde hair and lanky limbs. His hair was messy, and it looked like the side of his arm was starting to bruise… Ray guessed that he'd been ramming against the door, trying to get it open. A girl nearby held a gaggle of keys, and he smirked—it would've taken them forever to find the right one that opened the door. His smile fell, though, when he did a rough head count. "Is this all of you?" he asked the blonde boy. According to the data that Frank had him sort out earlier, there had been 84 missing kids. There were only about thirty five of them here.

The boy found his way to the wall, leaning against it. "What? Oh. Um…" he looked at the girl that was with him, then back at their four rescuers. "No. A bunch of kids are still down there," he pointed to the door. "The hallway was really narrow. Not everyone could fit."

"How did you get out?" Andrea asked. She was sure that Richard, her friend and fellow gang member, had said the 'Drags' were put into cages or something. At the very least, someone should've been watching them…

The boy shook his head. "There was… this… earthquake thing." He explained. "Some of the ceiling collapsed and broke open the cages."

"Is everyone all right?" one of the officers asked.

"Ariel," the girl muttered under her breath. She grabbed one of the officers' hands. "One of our friends got hit in the head. She's unconsious. And a lot of other people have scratches and bruises." She frowned, remembering something else. "And two kids were on the wrong side of the room when the ceiling collapsed. They're trapped down there."

The officer turned to his taller friend. "I'll help get these kids out of there," he said firmly. "You go tell the chief that we found the kids—and call the hospital. We're going to need it."

The taller officer nodded and left. As more kids filed out into the hallway, The remaining policeman turned to the girl. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Carla," she answered. She motioned to her blonde friend. "His name is Tamal."

"All right then, Carla," he said. "Let's get everyone out into the open. It's time to finish this mess once and for all."

-

* * *

-

After several long minutes, Ingrid watched the groups begin to argue. She was beginning to wonder how much time it would be until the Dragon Lord kid revealed who Shard was.

Suddenly, from the corner of her eye, she saw a police officer approaching. The man looked young, and he came up to speak with the cop that had hung around with Ingrid and the kids since before the press conference. He'd also been one of the cops sent with Andrea when she went to find the missing kids. Curious, she listened in.

"Sir, we, uh, checked downstairs like the kid said."

"And?"

"Well, there were some problems. But despite that, she's telling the truth. There are these cages down there, but the kids are…" he trailed off with a shrug. "They 'escaped', they said. We think they got out by themselves."

"Got out?" the first cop repeated.

The younger cop blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, do you remember that mini-quake that we felt earlier?" he asked.

"Yeah?"

"…it brought the ceiling down over there. One or two of the cages was smashed, open. The other two had their doors opened, supposedly by a key." The man looked up from the pad of paper he was reading off of, and frowned. "Sir, no disrespect, but how could such a small quake have brought the ceiling down?"

The older officer looked away, thinking. "It must be an unstable part of the building," he guessed. "Listen, if the ceiling was brought down, I need you to send out a word to the fire department, get them over here. Someone might've gotten trapped under something, if the ceiling collapsed. If not, we'll at least need them to check out the rest of the building—in case any other part of it is unstable."

"Someone did get trapped," the younger officer said, making Ingrid stiffen. "The kids say that at least two or three kids are missing—they were in a part of the school that was blocked off by the rubble."

"Well, then, what are you waiting for?" asked the senior officer. "Go get the fire department, immediately!" he groaned, rubbing his temples. "I would come with you, but with the tension in here, between the angry kids and the upset parents, I think there's going to be a _riot. _I have to stay. I'm counting on you to handle this. Take some other officers with you—it's your responsibility now. I'll come when these people calm down to an acceptable level. Understand?"

The younger cop nodded and left, leaving Ingrid high-strung. The ceiling had collapsed and a few kids were missing? That sounded… _terrible. _What if Fillmore had…?

_No, _she told herself. _No, I am __**not **__going to think things like that. We'll just have to leave it to them for now. They're professionals… they can take care of things. _

_I hope._

Her eyes flickered up to the clock, seeing that it was almost past the 7 minutes Ryu had given Shard to reveal himself. Ingrid watched as the second hand approached the '12', and when it did, things fell eerily silent. Everyone's eyes turned on the Dragon Lord, expecting him to speak.

Frank suddenly showed up at her side. "What'd I miss?" he whispered, not wanting to break the eerie silence.

"They found the place where the kids were being kept, but the kids had already escaped. Now people are waiting for what Ryu is going to say."

Frank looked at her, surprised. "They found the kids? Was Fillmore…"

"I don't know." Ingrid interrupted him, not wanting to talk about it.

The boy nodded, turning to look at the Dragon Lord like everyone else. Sighing, the seventh grader stood, moving to the center of the room.

At the moment, Ingrid couldn't focus. She was about to learn who Shard was, who had caused them so much greif for weeks. She could bearly contain herself, and her mind was scrambling to figure out who it was. Who could it be?

_In order to find the leader, you must find who gains the most from Shard's actions. _

Suddenly, the talk that she'd had with Neal Gemstone, the previous Shard leader, came rushing back to her mind. Who benefits most from the heists, the vandalism, the gang-fights, and kidnapping children—who benefitted most from turning the school upside down and forcing Folsom out of her position?

"Oh… dear… god…" she whispered, her eyes growing big in shock. "Frank, I know who Shard is!"

Wayne and Frank, both in hearing range, swivvled around to give the girl looks. "You _do? __**Who is it?!" **_Frank demanded in a whisper.

"You remember what Neal Gemstone, the first Shard leader, said? "In order to find the leader, you must find who gains the most from Shard's actions". Who gains the most from getting Folsom kicked out of the principal position?"

A moment of silence ensued, and then Frank slowly began to pivot on his foot. His eyes flickered up to look at Folsom, at the far side of the stage. Slowly, his eyes slid to the right, and landed on the science teacher and soon-to-be principal, Marlin Valdemar. "Well, Mr. Valdemar is getting a chance to become the principal, but I don't see how any kid would benefit from that." Frank said.

"You're making this too complicated," Ingrid said. "Because of Shard's actions--the thefts, the missing kids, everything--Folsom is losing her job. and because of that, Mr Valdemar gets the most out of it, because he becomes the new principal. It's the ultimate prize; the school itself. So, Mr. Valdemar must be Shard."

"Don't be rediculus," Frank scoffed. "Sure, he gets a lot out of it, but he's a teacher. He can't be Shard because he's a teacher and an adult."

"Who says adults can't be in the Shard gang?" Wayne asked quietly.

Frank glared at them both. "Because!" he said in a forced whisper. "It's not possible. It's _simply not possible. _Besides, he can't be Shard. If he was, that would mean that..."

He trailed off, his eyes flickering up to Valdemar again. "... it would mean that the Shard gang would rule the school without question. Because there is no higher authority in school than the principal." he finished, sounding horrified. It only took a second for his jaw to drop to the floor.

Wayne and Ingrid exchanged a glance, then turned to stare at him. Both realized that Frank was right.

"Our principal is going to be the Shard Gang Leader?" Ingrid repeated. "...You've got to be _joking…_"

-

* * *

-

Inside the shrine, Fillmore and Kaida gaped. It was as impressive as the speculations had said it was, as impressive as a secret wall opening up. Around them, crystals and glass ornaments hung on the walls and from the ceiling, creating a surreal atmosphere. Again, they were walking on mossaic tiles, shaped in a way that displayed a man—a knight, with a sheild and crystal sword—slaying a dragon.

The ground here was littered with debris and plaster that had fallen from the ceiling, too. It struck Fillmore why: the shrine was built after the school was built. Possibly even built by kids. There was the chance that the whole place was unstable because of that.

Even though a mess lay around them, it was still awe-inspiring. Computers were cleverly hidden in the corner to the right, and to the left, shelves of books and documents towered over them.

Something in the center, far end of the room drew Cornelius Fillmore's attention. He approached it, realizing with some shock that it was an altar of some sort. He stepped up a few steps to be level with it, eyes straining to see properly in the dim light.

On the top of the altar, three places were marked out. Two of them were filled with a bust of a person, a face. When he got a better look, Fillmore realized the first person was someone he knew; Neal Gemstone. The first Shard Gang leader.

"It's an altar of the Shard gang leaders," he realized, touching the glass sculpture. "Then that means that this next person is the current leader…" he turned to see who it was, stopping short when he observed the second one to be of a much older man, instead of the face of a child.

Curious, he approached it. It looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place it… looking underneath the artwork, he read aloud, "Marlin Valdemar."

"What?" Kaida asked. Fillmore turned, seeing that Kaida had wandered off on her own. She was by the bookshelves, looking at some scrolls and books. As Kaida asked him what he was talking about, Fillmore saw her tuck one of the books inside her backpack that she carried, which looked unnaturally full.

"The Shard gang leaders," Fillmore said, instead of scolding her for taking a book that wasn't hers. It didn't matter much; these people were stealers anyway. He motioned to the altar. "It's a literal _shrine… _a shrine celebrating _Shard._ It has the leaders' identities up here."

Kaida drew up beside him, looking at the two busts. She turned to the right, motioning to the floor. "Looks like the third guy fell off," she commented, drawing Fillmore's attention. He looked to the floor, where a mound of crushed glass sat. It had obviously been knocked off the altar from the earthquake.

"So there was a third one? A third leader?"

"Or a second in command, someone who was _going _to be leader," Kaida suggested.

Fillmore's eyes lingered on the broken glass, wondering who it could have been. Shard's legacy was clearly set up to move forward, then. It was just a shame that they didn't have the third person's identity. He turned to look again at the second leader. His face seemed so familiar…

And suddenly, he realized it. "Marlin Valdemar." He repeated.

Kaida paused. "Isnt' that one of the teachers here in your school?" she asked abruptly.

Fillmore nodded, frown deepening. "Yes, he's a science teacher. AP science. But I recently heard of him, too. He's also… the person who's running for Principal, to take Folsom's spot." He remembered Tamal getting information to him that said there would be a press conference over Folsom's job, and it included the science teacher in it.

A second realization struck him, making him cringe. "If Valdemar is the shard gang leader, and he wins the election for becoming X's new Principal, then…! Then this conspiracy will go all the way to the top!" he and the girl exchanged a glance filled with dread. "This is bad… we have to get back up to Folsom and tell her everything before something happens!"

Fillmore paused, then shook his head. "What am I talking about? It'll be my word against a teacher's. They'll never trust me, or you."

Kaida's eyes shone with a slight fear. "Now I see what my brother was so worried about," she said quietly. As Fillmore reached forward to grab the second crystal, she stopped him. "Wait! I have a better idea."

The African American boy stopped in mid-motion. He cast a glance at Kaida. "What's your idea?" he asked.

Kaida was digging through her backpack, and brought out a camera of some sort. "Here," she showed it to him. "Photographic evidence. I've been saving the last five pictures on this roll of film for something special. This'll do." She told him. Carefully, she aimed the camera, turning on the flash to take a picture.

Fillmore stood back, watching her as she took her pictures. Still, he had a doubt in his mind. Would police or Folsom take this evidence as true? One could always set up a picture to make it biased. And would it matter, if the press conference concerning Folsom's job ended with her getting fired? Could they make any difference once the board of education made its decision? If only there was some way to stop that press conference…

He tried to think of when it was being held, realizing it would probably be scheduled for right _now. _With the thought, he groaned; there was no way to stop it now. It was underway, possibly even finished, in the cafeteria somewhere above them…

The thought made him stop. _The cafeteria is somewhere above us. _The thought ran smoothly, and still was shocking; he remembered that the crafter's lab was right beneath the cafeteria where the press conference would be held.

_Maybe… maybe there's an exit,_ Fillmore thought. His eyes scanned the ceiling, looking for a hatch, a trapdoor, anything. It was too dark to see, however, and he looked around for a light.

"What are you doing?" Kaida asked him as he wandered around the room.

"Looking for a flashlight or something," he answered. He tried a nearby lightswitch, but it didn't work—there was a spark from a lightbulb above them, but it didn't turn on. "I need to see the ceiling." He explained.

"O…kay…" Kaida said slowly, raising an eyebrow.

"We're beneath the cafeteria." Fillmore explained shortly. "That's where the press conference is being held. If there's a trapdoor or something, we can still get up to stop them from electing Mr. Valdemar as the new principal."

"Oh. I see," Kaida said. She sounded surprised. She turned and began looking around, just like Fillmore was, in hopes of finding a lightswitch or a flashlight.

"Plus, I'm beginning to think that it's our only exit from this place," Fillmore went on. It was true; every other place seemed blocked off by rubble form the mini-earthquake. A secret passageway might be their only hopes of escape, especially if the building decided to collapse on them.

Fillmore tripped on some nearby plaster, stumbling into the wall. It was too dark to see clearly, but he assumed he was near where they came in at. He turned, looking along the wall, seeing nothing in the darkness. He was about to look away when there was a movement, in the corner, that made him jump.

"Kaida?" he called. Was that her? it certainly looked like a person, standing in the shadows.

"What?" Kaida's voice called, from somewhere behind him.

Fillmore frowned. "Wait," he said slowly. "If you're over there, then who is…"

The person in the shadows stepped out, revealing himself. His blue eyes flashed in cold anger, and he crossed his arms. Fillmore recognized him immediately, taking a step back in shock. It was the one person he'd hoped he wouldn't run into.

"_Derek?" _he asked, surprised. He took another step back, not knowing what to do. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. Derek let his arms fall to the side, his fists clenched.

"Stopping you," the boy replied simply. Then, without another word, he lunged foreward and attacked Fillmore.

-

* * *

-

**End of Chapter 17**

**Wow! Another Cliffie! :)**

**Sorry for the delay. The next chapter will be up soon. I hope you enjoyed it… I'm not entirely happy with the story as a whole, but it is nice to see all the pieces coming together. **

**But… in all honesty, how many of you were expecting a teacher to be the leader of the Shard gang? C'mon, show of hands! I hope not many of you… I worked forever on that part, and it'd be a shame to have it be really, really predictable…. A corrput teacher is about as high as it can go for the school, unless you've got a corrupt principal, right? So I hope I surprised you. I could've done a little better on the 'reveal', but I'm still sorta happy with it. **

**Also, I know that the Dragon lord, Ryu, and his sister, Kaida, were introduced pretty late in the story, and this is the first major point you see them at. I **_**did **_**drop Ryu's name somewhere in the previous chapters, but it was nothing big. (especially compared to Mr. Valdemar, whose name was dropped far before this and has been growing in importance since ch. 9…) So don't be surprised if you don't know who the heck Ryu is. Ryu –equals- Dragon Lord. Marlin Valdemar –equals- Shard. **

**Oh well. You'll learn about them more next chapter. The next chap will be nothing but drama, drama, drama. Will Fillmore survive? Will he and Ingrid be reunited? Will they stop Shard from becoming the principal? …you get the point. :) **

**See you next time. Please review!**


	18. To Walk Among Gods

_**This started off as a small flashback. Then it became a large flashback. Then it became two large flashbacks, and some personal-motivational speeches in between. And then I cut it off from the rest of the chapter because it was suddenly too long. So sorry for that. We'll get back to Fillmore and the others soon. **_

_**I wanted the flashbacks to give you all some insight on the two major side characters/gangs; Ryu and Mr. Valdemar. Since, you know, this whole story happened because of THEM. I didn't intend to put this in the original story, but I thought it was for the best, to tell how this whole shindig got started and show you their history. Just goes to show that there's a whole section of stuff that I planned for this fic that never made it in. **_

_**Anyway, the first half of the chapter we're starting with Ryu's flashback—it takes place a few days before (at the exact same time as chapter 4, actually.) I figured, with Valdemar being revealed as the villain, this scene would be more meaningful. Oh, and Valdemar's flashback in the last half of the story takes place a year prior to the present. **_

_**Again, sorry for the delay in updates. Thanks to everyone for the reviews, and for sticking with me. The next chapter is 90 percent done, needs to be edited. Will be up in exactly a week, and that's a promise. Now without further ado, I bring you ch. 18.**_

* * *

Note: Fillmore! Belongs to Disney and co., not me. Furthermore, no money is being made off this fic. I would take money if I could, but alas, no one I know is willing to pay for fanfiction. . .

* * *

**Ch. 18 **

To Walk Among Gods

_The six figures moved slowly and carefully into the darkened building of X middle school. They stuck to the walls, using small flashlights to light their way. _

_Ryu Blackwell, also known to many as the Dragon Lord, cast a look around the shadowed hallways, shivering. He forgot how creepy the school was at night. That fact, plus the knowledge that they were heading straight into Shard territory, set him on edge. He unconsciously gripped his little sister Kaida's hand, leading her and the rest of the kids down the halls to the basement. _

_Turning the corner, they headed into the basement of the school, towards the crafter's lab. The child leading the group knocked the door quietly, hoping the room was cleared out. It wouldn't do if they ran into Shard Gang members __**now. **_

_The door swung open almost immediately, revealing a blonde youth. He beckoned them inside, glancing down the hall as he did so. He was as nervous as the rest. _

_Once the six were inside, the blonde shut the door and locked it tight, turning to them. "What the hell took you so long?" he demanded in a harsh whisper. "I was beginning to think you ran into some fragments and had to abort the mission—" he turned and looked down, surprised; then glanced at the Dragon Lord. "You brought your __**sister?**__" he asked, bewildered. _

_Kaida, in response, kicked his shin. "I can do anything my brother can, so there!" she hissed as he doubled over, rubbing the now-sore leg. _

"_Kaida, don't kick Tamas," Ryu said absently, drawing her closer. To the blonde, he apologized. "I had to bring her," he explained, slightly grumpy. "She threatened to tell our parents if I didn't." _

"_You just can't say no to her, can ya." Tamas muttered. When Ryu opened his mouth, the blonde boy waved him away, handing him a flashlight. "Never mind. We're behind schedule. I've got things set up. I made sure the security camera was busted, just in case someone wants to check it later." _

"_Good." Ryu nodded, letting him hand out the flashlights to his friends. "Okay, listen up people," he announced softly. "Let's just recap. We're currently in Shard territory. That means we stay as quiet as possible, understand?" _

_Everyone nodded, and he went on. "Our objective is to find Shard's base of operations. For those of you who don't know, we've been combing the school for where the fragments keep their information, and run their 'business' from—where they keep their stolen goods, where they do their transactions, where they have their meetings. We haven't been able to find it._

"_Rumor has it that this base of theirs is special; something called the 'shrine'. We don't know what it looks like or where it would be. But all of our leads have been pointing here, to the crafter's lab. So we split up. We're looking for hints, signs of Shard activity. Somewhere out of sight. Somewhere that can be easily accessed, even in broad daylight, yet somewhere with restricted access to unwanted students. Somewhere… where documents and stolen goods could be hidden. _

"_Look for those signs. We'll split up. Remember, this Shrine could be anything… a trapdoor, a forgotten unused room, or something else entirely. Anything suspicious, and you come find me or Tamas. Understand?" _

_Everyone nodded again, and Ryu took a deep breath to calm himself. One of his subordinates raised her hand, and he grumbled inwardly. "Yes, Ariel?" he asked the girl. _

"_This may be a stupid question, but what are we going to do when we find it?" she asked. Tamas, beside him, winced. _

"_That's actually a good question," he muttered to himself, glancing at Ryu. _

_The Dragon Lord folded his arms. "Well, Ariel, it's simple. __**If**__ we find it, we'll drop the information off at the authorities." The others gave him a questioning look. _

"_No offence, boss, but how's that going to help?" a boy next to Ariel asked. _

_Ryu sighed. "The Shrine is their base of operations. It's where they do all their work; like storing, hiding, and selling the goods they've been stealing recently. And coincidently, the Safety Patrol has been looking for those stolen items. If we can drop off an anonymous tip to where those stolen goods are, the Safety Patrol will move in and bust them before you can even blink." _

"_Won't that just minorly inconvenience the fragments, though?" Ariel asked. _

"_Not necessarily. You see, the Shrine also keeps information on the Shard Gang members. If the Safety Patrollers happen to stumble across a link between the recent thefts and Shard, there's a chance that Folsom will turn her efforts into bringing them down. And I know they will find a link between the two, because there's someone on the safety patrol who's a reformed fragment. He'll know enough about the Shrine to be suspicious, and he'll make the connection pretty quickly. If he's as good as they say he is." _

_Tamas gasped, looking guilty. "You're talking about Cornelius Fillmore." He said. _

"_Yes." _

_Again, Tamas cringed. Ryu gave him a look. "What?" _

"_Well, you see," Tamas mumbled, "There's a tiny little problem with that plan." _

"_Yes, yes, I know Officer Fillmore has never seen the Shrine, only Shard's inner circle has. But he's heard the rumors, and could easily point the rest of the Patrol in the right direction…" _

"_He __**could,**__" Tamas said slowly, "Except… except my brother Tamal said…" _

"…_said…?" Ryu prompted when Tamas didn't go on. _

_Tamas hesitated. "There's a rumor from the Safety Patrol's office, that… that, well, Cornelius Fillmore kind of… quit." _

_The Dragon Lord stared, then suddenly swore vividly. "What the __**Hell **__do you mean, 'kind of' quit?"_

"_It happened this afternoon." Tamas explained, trying to quiet his leader. "My brother is Cornelius's friend, so that's how I heard about it. They've got a profiler and half the force looking into his sudden… departure. Apparently, someone was sending threats, or blackmail, to him, and he just got fed up with it and quit. Though I think it has something more to do with the heist in the earlier afternoon." He stopped, looking the Dragon Lord over. "DL, please don't yell again. We might get caught." _

_Slowly, Ryu took a deep breath, trying to cool his temper at the sudden new information. Once it was mostly under control, he spoke, dangerously calm. "Fine," he whispered. "__**Fine**__. This is just a minor setback. We will get the information to them. And we will talk to Cornelius Fillmore. We'll convince him to push his friends in the right direction, Officer or not. It will just take more time. Let's just take this slowly. First things first; we need to find that Shrine." _

_He opened his eyes, and pointed. "We'll start in the whittling room. Ariel, Jeff, you two start on the east wall…" _

_Soon they were all split up and searching the room for clues. Ryu had them search in pairs, two pairs of eyes for every corner. After some thought, the Dragon Lord decided to let his sister roam about, hoping her smaller stature might let her see something the rest of them missed. He still worried about keeping her so close to enemy territory, though. She was his little sister, after all, and Shard already proved that he didn't play fair. He wanted to keep her far away from the whole gang business, in truth. But this was too important to leave her out. _

_It took them a few hours to finish searching the whittling room. After they'd gone thoroughly through it, they switched over to the pottery workshop, poking around in unused crevices and darkened areas. One of his subordinates named Viral uncovered a large stash of Spackle Pop Rocks under the floorboards; a violently sizzly candy that was illegal in the school. It fit the rumors of the pottery club's vice-president Hans Warney being a pop rock addict, and rumors he kept a stash… but Hans wasn't a fragment. It wasn't what they were looking for._

_Other than that, the place was clean. _

"_I don't understand this," Robby, a short redhead, muttered. "I ran the numbers. 68 percent of the Shard Gang frequents this area, with 12 of those in the pottery club and 3 of 'em in the 'Whittler's Association of X'. Even if the Shrine __**isn't **__here, y'd think that at least a handful of 'em would use their desk for some illegal deed. This place is as clean as a diamond whistle!" _

_Ryu shook his head. "That might mean the shrine __**is **__around here, Rob," he explained. "Shard keeps it as clean as possible so the law doesn't have an excuse to come sniffing around." _

_Kaida, beside him, perked up. "Hey, Robby? What about the other 50 percent? Those not in the whittler or pottery rooms?" she'd spent enough time with her brother to know that Robby was doing undercover work on the Shard Gang, so she trusted his count. _

"_Let's see. Metalworkers have 4 percent. Woodshop's got a total of 2 percent," he nodded to Tamas, who worked in that area, "and… the glass smiths have 33 percent. That means we have 14 percent of the numbers walkin' around here without a reason. That's why I thought the Shrine was down here. The only place that even came close to that high of traffic was the science corner in the D wing." _

"_33 percent?" Kaida repeated. "A third of the gang, In ONE club? That sound suspicious—why didn't we just start the search __**there?**__" _

"_It's not a surprise there's so many," Viral told her. _

"_Yeah, they gotta get those necklaces they wear from somewhere, right?" Ariel pitched in. "Not t' mention a bunch of them are from the inner circle. The gang is called 'Shard' after all." _

"_And it's where Neal Gemstone, the previous leader, headed __**his **__operation from." Ryu sighed, rubbing his temples. _

"_How do you know that?" Robby asked, perplexed—he hadn't been able to figure something like that out himself, and it was his __**job.**_

_Ryu shrugged. "He told me. Anyway, Kaida, I didn't want to start the search there because—"_

"_What the hell do you mean, He 'told' you?" Tamas interrupted, sounding panicked. "As in, Neal Gemstone __**talked **__to you? In Person?" Ryu was silent. "DL, he's DANGEROUS! You were here last year, you should know that! Why didn't you tell us? If he confronted you, knows you're in the Dragon gang, or that you're our leader, you… you could be…" _

"_Actually, he didn't exactly confront me. It was the other way around." Ryu explained quietly. _

_Tamas gaped in shock. "You—__**you went to his HOUSE?**__ You confronted the most powerful kid in the history of X Middle School? The guy who nearly tore this place apart on a whim? Why on __**earth—**__damn it, Ryu, did you even have someone with you to back you up?" _

"_I had to have answers!" Ryu said back defensively. "We defeated Shard last year. We held Ragnarok, and we won—and the next year, there they are again, reformed under some mysterious new leader. I thought it was some sort of copycat, some kind of joke. I didn't think Shard would break the rules like that. I had to see for myself if Neal had really chosen a successor for the Shard position, I had to!" _

_The group fell silent, and Ryu silently reminded himself not to yell again. Quietly, Tamas cleared his throat. "And? He said…?" he asked finally. _

"_He said he… __**encouraged **__the new leader, but didn't choose him. A load of bull, if you ask me. Same name, same kids—same gang. The new leader is legitimate, all right." He muttered. Tamal looked like he was going to start scolding him again, and Ryu butted in. "Neal said he didn't care any more. "I'm not a player", he said. He thinks it's funny to watch things unfold now. He doesn't care who wins. Neal even gave me some information to—'keep the game fair'—or something. He's __**not a threat.**__ I know what I'm doing, okay?" _

_Tamas took a deep breath in, forcing himself to be calm. At last he spoke. "All right, then. But I wish you'd tell me when you do stupid things like that." He growled. _

_With a sigh, he turned away. "Maybe next time, then." He compromised. Quickly, he cast a look at a nearby door, one that led to the glass blowing area. "As for your question, Kaida… we already checked that room. A few times. There's just no place to hide anything; it's all walls and shelves and furnaces. Cramped, small. No place to hide any amount of the stuff, and we STILL looked." _

"_Well, then, look again! It's probably the best bet for finding the shrine. You probably just missed it the first few times around." Kaida insisted. _

_Ryu nearly laughed at that. Of course that's what Kaida thought. "Maybe we should. We will. But Kaida… I don't want you in there." She started to protest, and he stopped her. "I let you come this far. But this is too dangerous. When a fragment asks you if you've ever been to this place, you won't have to lie when you say 'no'." _

"_Brother," Kaida sighed with exasperation. "I'm fine. What could happen? Why don't you just take it easy and…" _

"_What's going on in here?" _

_All the kids jumped. That voice didn't belong to anyone they knew. They all twirled around to find an adult standing tall in the doorway, making Tamas double-take. Hadn't he locked the door? How had this adult gotten in? And without making any noise, to boot? _

"_Uh…" Ariel, nearest to him, stammered. "Hi Mr. Valdemar. What are you doing here?"_

'_Valdemar?' Ryu stiffened, unsure of what to do. There were strange reports he'd been getting involving the teacher, ones that suggested something odd was going on. He wasn't sure what to make of it. Quickly, he plastered a smooth look on his face before the adult looked back to him. _

"…_Ariel." The teacher said at last, frowning. "I rarely see you outside of my second period class. It is a… surprise to see you." He paused. "I was told there were strange noises coming from down here. Since I have access to the janitor's spare keys, I figured I would come and check. What are __**you **__lot doing here?" _

_Ariel began stammering excuses, and Ryu cut her off before she could ruin it. _

"_Tamas is our friend. He said he's been having trouble closing up the crafter's lab at night, and asked us to help him this time. We were just finishing up." He recited the lie he fabricated in case they were discovered. _

_Mr. Valdemar turned his sharp gaze on Ryu, looking him over suspiciously. "It's pretty late to still be at school." He commented casually, checking his watch. "Do you always stay here until midnight?" _

"_No. Some people have been staying late this week, though." Tamas stammered._

_Ryu sighed. "It is really late though. Mom's going to be angry we missed curfew __**again.**__" He paused, then gave a pleasant smile. "So why are __**you **__here so late?" he asked, changing the subject. _

"_Grading papers." Valdemar said slowly, exchanging a glance with the boy. Then the teacher's gaze flitted downwards, to look at his sister Kaida. "And you seem much too young to go here." _

"_He's my brother." Kaida pointed to Ryu and shrugged, and the boy winced. He hoped silently that Valdemar wouldn't notice. _

_Valdemar did, though, and examined the girl. "That is… interesting." He said finally, his eyes lingering on Ryu's. The Dragon Lord suddenly found himself growing in suspicion. Something here wasn't right. But before he could place a name to the feeling, Valdemar broke the gaze and looked away. "So I assume that you are finished here, then." _

_Tamas stammered. "Y-yeah, we were just going to leave." He said quickly, slipping over to the safe and putting the keys safely inside. _

"_Good." Valdemar stood aside, opening the door for them. One by one, the seven children filed out. "Then you'd best get going home. No detours, understand?" _

"_Yes sir," Ariel squeaked, leaving as quickly as possible. _

"_Ah. And one more thing." The adult's snakelike voice caught the Dragon Lord just as he was about to follow his group. The kid turned around to look at the teacher, whose cold eyes were locked firmly on his. _

"_I know you are lying. But I'll let it slide, this time. But don't let me catch you in here ever—__**ever—**__again. Ryu." _

_With that the door shut, leaving a bewildered Ryu in the hallway. _

"_How—how did you know my name—?" he asked the closed door, feeling the red flags go straight up in his mind. He had never seen Mr. Valdemar in his life, and never had a class with him; they didn't know each other at all. So how…? _

"_We need to go." Tamas's voice was firm in his ear. Ryu turned to see the others waiting anxiously for him. _

_Ryu took a deep breath, starting forward. "We're coming back," he announced quietly. "Soon. We have to. We missed something; the shrine __**has **__to be here. We will check the glassblowing area, even if we have to do it in broad daylight." He resolved, walking forward. _

"_You're sure?" Tamas asked, following close behind. _

_Ryu thought about it for a moment, and then shivered, prompting Tamas to grab his arm. "Are you all right?" he asked. _

"_I can't put my finger on it," Ryu said quietly. "I can't understand it, but something is wrong here. That man gives me the creeps, and I don't know what to make of him." He chanced a glance back to the lab, shivering again. "All I know is that something is off about Mr. Valdemar, and I'm going to find out what." _

* * *

He should've known it then.

That was the moment everything changed. When he first came into contact with Valdemar—with _Shard. _It was when Shard's plan was put into motion… when he decided to vandalize the school. When he learned about Kaida. Everything.

Ryu took a deep breath, shaking the memory off. The past was gone; there was nothing he could do about it. He'd discovered the Shard-Valdemar connection soon after the incident. A teacher, the leader of the Shard gang? He couldn't believe it, and yet it was true. It made everything else so _clear_. The heists. Shard's secretiveness. The kidnappings. Every piece of the puzzle neatly fell into place once Shard's identity was revealed. Ryu had finally discovered what Shard was after—his plans to take over the school.

Now all he had to do was stop it.

He opened his eyes, looking around. The arguing in the cafeteria had escalated. It was only two minutes until the clock chimed seven. All eyes were turned on him. Ryu, the Dragon Lord, felt cold inside.

He had waited seven minutes. Seven long, desperate minutes in which he'd given _Shard _a chance to end this peacefully. His eyes were staring straight at the stage, right at Shard—and Valdemar was staring right back at him, the teacher's cold grey eyes unwavering and confident.

_He isn't going to confess, _Ryu realized, despairing. It would have been so much easier if Marlin Valdemar would just give in and confess. The whole deal could be resolved without any arguing, or fighting, or politics—but, then, Ryu had never expected it to be that easy.

He glanced again at the clock. Two minutes before seven—before the reveal. He'd have to brand Valdemar as Shard, expose his secrets, and pin everything on the man. Valdemar had gone too far this time, and he was too close to succeeding in a school wide takeover. The only way to stop it from getting worse was to expose him as the Shard leader.

He could do it, too. Ryu had ensured, only hours before this, that the proof existed. In Valdemar's desk there was a trove of evidence: an initiation necklace in the drawer, forged keys to _every _lock within school in his coat pocket, and a list of Shard Gang members and illegal transactions in his computer. Most incriminating of all was the list of every missing child—their routes, their schedules, and the time they disappeared—all sitting in his computer. Mind, it wasn't enough to directly condemn him—he could excuse some of it away—but once the Shard Gang members were identified and questioned, at least one of them were bound to squeal. That's what fragments did, anyway.

Unfortunately, there were a few things to do before Valdemar could be taken down. Namely, he had to convince the authorities to look into the Teacher's Business. That, in itself, was no small feat. Would policemen, or the school board, or—_anybody _listen to him? _I'm only a seventh grader, after all. There's a chance they won't believe me… _

His eyes flickered over to the policemen in the corner. Two had positioned themselves between the gangs, trying to discourage a riot from breaking out. These were trained proffessionals. They probably didn't have time for kids like him. In the end, it was his word against a teacher's… his accusations might very well go unheard.

_But I have to try. _Ryu reminded himself. That's why he was here, why he was endangering his whole gang and himself—to expose the man for what he really was. They _had _to listen to him. He would _make _them listen. All he had to do was cause enough of a ruckus to draw the authority's attention. He'd make such a ruckus that they would HAVE to look into the whole deal, his _and _Valdemar's.

And what bigger ruckus was there than Ragnarok?

There was always the chance that someone would believe him. That his accusation might stand up and take off running; that Valdemar might be buried underneath the kidnapping scandal and fail to get the position as principal. Maybe they could hold off his election. Maybe they could cause enough of an uproar that they'd push the date back, to give the Police and the Safety Patrol more time to incriminate him.

But with the threat of losing the position, what would happen to the gang members that had been already kidnapped? What would happen to his _sister_? He didn't know what the fragments would do. And he was afraid to guess.

But he didn't have to guess. He would know soon enough.

Slowly, he looked up at the clock. Everything fell silent. The hand reached 12, his time had run out.

It was now or never.

The Clock struck Seven.

* * *

Marlin Lyle Valdemar's eyes flickered upwards for a moment as the crowd fell silent. The drop in the noise level from a dull roar into silence had startled him, almost. Almost.

The teacher noted the time had finally reached Seven O'clock. As attentive as ever, Valdemar realized that everyone in the room had turned to look in the corner, towards Ryu—towards the _Dragon Lord_, who had been a thorn in Valdemar's side for several weeks. Members from both gangs were looking at him, as well as various other students, teachers and parents who had attended the conference to decide who would be the principal, were looking at Ryu for some explanation.

Valdemar was vaguely surprised that the whole room of people were willing to hear Ryu out. He was just a kid, after all, and Valdemar had assumed that most of them would brush the kid off. But once again, he had underestimated the boy. If anything, Ryu was commanding; he obviously had control over his gang. Everyone could see how _strong _he appeared, even just by standing there.

The crowd knew Ryu was in control. They knew he had some insight to what was going on, and were willing to hear what he had to say. Like a herd of sheep, these people wanted an explanation, and would listen to anyone who offered one. But they would never _believe _him, no _sir. _The story, no matter how true, was so farfetched that it would never fly.

Valdemar smirked to himself. _Ryu, do you honestly think that you—YOU, of all people—could make me back down? _He wondered. _I have worked too hard to get here. I have bit and kicked my way to the top, to finish my goal; to have my revenge on Folsom and more importantly to become the __**master **__of this school. I am inches away from getting what I want. I have worked too hard to get here, and no __**child**__ is going to stop me now._

The teacher's eyes narrowed as he recalled the most important day of his life, when he had been promised the gang just one year ago…

_(Flashback: one year ago)_

_It was dark inside the science lab, where the teacher Marlin Valdemar sat. He liked it in the dark; it made things seem quieter. It always helped him think. _

_The adult sat at his desk, eyes running down a thin list of names. The kids here were suspected Dragon gang members who attended his AP science class. His fellow gang members, who had compiled the list, asked him to obtain information on them to see if they really were Drags. Valdemar promised to do so, and added a special treat for them—he suggested giving the aforementioned kids detention, to keep them under better surveillance. The others agreed readily; having a teacher in the Shard gang had its perks, after all. _

_Marlin Valdemar had already found solid reasons to give two people on the list detentions; the first for not turning in homework, the second for being tardy to that afternoon's class. He was on the third name, shuffling through papers and records for any excuse to keep the kid after school, when he heard someone speak. _

"_Running out of reasons to give kids detentions?" the mystery voice asked. _

_Valdemar jumped and spun in his chair to glare at his uninvited visitor. He caught himself when he realized who it was—Neal Gemstone, aka the current leader of the Shard gang. "Mr. Gemstone!" Valdemar said, surprised. He shot up out of his chair, turning to face him. "I… apologize. I didn't hear you come in…" _

_Neal sauntered over, carrying himself with an air of superiority, even in his casualness. "Evening, Valdemar," he said lightly. "You know, even though it's been three months since we've drafted you into my gang, I still find it strange when you—an adult—talks to me in such a formal manner." He commented smoothly, sitting in front of the teacher's desk. "Strange, but rewarding." _

_Valdemar hovered, unsure. Neal often came to his office, to perhaps pick his brain for ideas or play chess, but something told him that this time was different. "I'm sorry, but… was there something you needed…?" he asked. _

_Neal leaned on Mr. Valdemar's desk, beckoning him to sit. "Someone told me you were giving detentions to Dragon gang members, and I was amused. I had to see for myself." He explained as his eyebrows danced in interest. _

_The science teacher sat, slowly going back to his list. "I was," he said, picking his words carefully. "But I can't find many good reasons. The Dragon Lord has a bunch of goody-two-shoes in his gang." _

"_Who needs reasons?" Neal asked lightly. "Some teachers just give out detentions for no reason at all. I hear principal Folsom does it a lot." _

_Valdemar winced as Neal named his rival, Principal Dawn Folsom. He immediately became grumpy, and tried to avoid the subject. "I don't want anyone to get suspicious," he muttered. _

"_There!" Neal said suddenly. Valdemar looked up, to see Shard was looking at him eagerly, pointing a playful finger at his face. "There it was again. Last time I was here and I mentioned Folsom, your mood changed. You got so annoyed at her that I won our chess match. And you did it again, just now! You two have a history together, don't you?" _

_Valdemar shrank back, biting his tongue to keep from snapping at the boy. It wouldn't do to anger the leader of the Shard gang. "I was supposed to be principal, not __**her,**__" he muttered quietly, as Neal's knowing smile widened slightly. "She stole that spot from me. What does she know about running a school? About dealing with finances? I had more experience than her, more seniority, more connections… but the board chose HER, instead. It was a fluke!" he spat. "And I got stuck as a lowly science teacher. Having to work under her heel every day, answering to her, pretending we're 'friends'… how __**dare **__she do this to me?"_

_Neal's eyes danced. "You really hate her, don't you?" he asked, fiddling with one half of a semi-precious geode that decorated the teacher's desk. _

"_More than I thought I could hate anyone," Valdemar agreed with an agitated sigh. He brightened a bit. "But that's why I joined your Gang." He said. "You guys cause hell for the school. Pure chaos. And I wanted to help give Folsom as much trouble as I could. She may have the position, but I'm going to make her wish she wasn't principal." He paused, and then added quietly, "and if all goes well, and things get too out of hand, the school board might __**fire**__ her… and then I'd have another shot at getting the job…" _

_Neal cocked his head. "How much would that take?" he asked suddenly. _

_Valdemar blinked, not realizing that he'd said the last part out loud. "Sir?"_

"_How much would it take… to make you the principal?" _

_The science teacher gave a start, and then frowned. "Time," he said immediately. "Time to wear her down, time to cause problems, time to suck up to the Board of Education and make them remember that Folsom's not the only one who can be Principal. I'd probably need support, too, like recommendations and students who like me… and a way to make __**her **__look bad while making __**me **__look __**good…**__" he trailed off, looking at Shard. _

_Neal leaned back in his chair, eyes wandering to the ceiling as he thought. "Interesting…" he said absently. _

_Valdemar studied him for a moment, gears ticking in his brain. He wasn't sure what this was about. Shard was a smart kid, who was always thinking two steps ahead. It was a great asset for a chess player—and for a powerful, chaotic trickster like him. "Neal…" he said quietly, leaning in. "…what exactly are you thinking?" _

_Neal tapped his foot absently, staying quiet. He looked at the teacher, and finally, he shifted in his chair, taking a casual pose. _

"_Do you know why people join gangs, Mr. Valdemar?" he asked casually. _

_Marlin Valdemar blinked, unsure of what to say. "To rebel?" he guessed. _

_Neal laughed. "Sometimes," he said with a chuckle. "But that's not entirely it. You see, people always have their own reasons for doing something. People join gangs… to further their own interests. Because they get something out of it. And everyone's reason is different." _

_He spread his hands out, smiling. "Some people tell me they joined my gang to rebel, to 'stick it to the man', if you will—they do it because their parents or teachers TELL them that it's wrong."_

"_Others do it because they want to be accepted… because a gang is like a big old family. They want to belong. They would do anything to help their gang-mates. They form a tight bond with others, to perhaps replace the family that they don't have at home." _

"_Still others do it over greed. These are the thieves, the wimps, the cash-hounds, the wrong-doers. They join the gang and give their loyalty, in exchange for rewards from me, or protection from the law. In my case, they even come to me for employment; since I want to take down the school, I conceive plans to help them steal something valuable, or tarnish someone's reputation, provide the thieves with men to carry out the task, and if something goes awry I provide an alibi for them and bail them out of detention. They even get a cut of the goods, if they do well." _

"_I see," Valdemar said with a nod. He knew this last part well; he had, several times, stepped in and gotten a kid out of detention, as per Shard's request. Now he knew why Shard wanted him to do these things. _

_Neal nodded. He leaned back in his chair, looking more serious. "But there are a few who join for… unique reasons." He went on. "For instance, there is Joan Harris, who is on the tennis team. She joined after she made me promise to target the gym more often in our heists. I found out why a month later; we raided the area and cleaned it out, and realized most of the equipment was junk. After it went missing, several of the extra-curricular departments were forced to restock, and the tennis team got the brand new equipment that it needed for so long."_

"_There was George Garrison, who joined and quit in less than a month. He was the new kid, and a good fighter, and asked that we put him in territorial fights as often as possible. All he was aiming at was getting enough detentions to prove to his parents that he didn't fit in at X middle school. After his sixth detention in a month, his parents finally pulled him out of school and moved back to Florida, where he used to live, because he promised to behave if they did. He manipulated the gang in order to get his parents to move back to his old school." _

"_And Theresa Evans, she was an interesting one. She made several suggestions that targeted her Geography Teacher, Mrs. Tawny. I couldn't figure out why, for a long time—she was getting good grades in the class, and the teacher seemed to like her. But after we drove Mrs. Tawny out and got her fired, I realized that Theresa's mother, Dora Evans, was also a Geography teacher, looking for work. After Mrs. Tawny was fired, Mrs. Evans got the job." _

_Mr. Valdemar stared, almost shocked. He remembered when Mrs. Tawny had been fired last year, because of a 'series of complications'. Neal had arranged that? It was… scary, almost, that a kid could have such power over the school. But, then, Marlin Valdemar always knew that Neal was a powerful kid. _

_Neal turned his sharp eyes on the adult. "…But out of all the people who join for their own reasons, I'd have to say you're the most interesting one, Mr. Valdemar." _

"…_Really?" the teacher asked, surprised. _

_The kid nodded. "When I first heard of you, I was shocked. A number of kids came to me, saying that I should draft you—a __**teacher—**__into my gang. And you expressed interest. You said you would absolutely love to join us in our… 'merrymaking'. You did everything that was asked of you, and never even asked for anything in return. For a while, I thought that maybe you just liked causing havoc, but after a few conversations with you, I knew that you were to smart for that." _

_Valdemar blinked at him, remembering back to when he'd first heard of the Shard gang. He had been staying late, grading papers, when he heard some kids sneaking around. He went out and caught them, demanding to know what they were doing—and one not-to-bright kid answered, quite frankly, that they were going to trash Dawn Folsom's office and remove a mark from someone's permanent record because their gang leader told them to. The other kids in the group nearly choked him for blowing their cover, but at the mention of 'trash Dawn Folsom's office', Valdemar had let them go._

_The day after the incident, one of Valdemar's female students stayed late, asking innocent questions until everyone left… then immediately inquired him about the previous night. She was in a gang called 'Shard', she said, and was here to ensure the teacher wasn't going to turn her gang-members in. He had replied that anyone who was willing to give Dawn Folsom grief was a friend to him. She looked puzzled, and after a moment, asked, 'would you like to join us?' _

_He joined and, since then, had never been better. On top of that, the gang leader, Neal, seemed to like him very much. "I was surprised that a kid would let an adult join their group," he admitted to Neal. _

"_I was intrigued." Neal said. "An adult, a TEACHER, wanting to be in a gang to destroy the school? It seemed counter intuitive." Neal leaned back, smiling. "You were a puzzle. I like puzzles. I wanted to find out your motivation for joining, so I let you on to see what you would do. And now I know, I know that your motivation is more impressive than anyone else's." he smirked. "You want to use the gang to become the principal."_

_Valdemar leaned back a bit. "I wouldn't say 'use' the gang…" he said carefully, picking his words. "I would say… 'taking it as means to an end'. Besides, the most I can hope for is getting Folsom kicked out. Being the principal would just be…" he waved his hand in the air, making a vague gesture. "A perk." He finished. _

"_Hm. A perk." Neal repeated, his eyes flashing with some unnamed emotion. _

_Marlin Valdemar sat, still as a stone, in his chair. "I'll ask again, Neal," he said slowly. "…What are you thinking?" _

_Neal looked him over, his face pensive. Finally he spoke. _

"_I am going to call Ragnarok next month." _

_Valdemar gave a start. "You're __**what?"**__ the teacher demanded, positive that he hadn't heard right. Ragnarok was a battle royale between two gangs—the tradition had been started by the Dragon Gang when it had formed, over twenty years back. In comparison, the Shard gang was young, and despite Neal's leadership, they were somewhat outclassed. "You'll never win—not with the fighters the Drags have!" _

"_I know." _

_Neal's answer startled him almost as much as his first statement. Valdemar settled back in his chair nervously, wondering what the boy was up to. Shard went on. _

"_I am tired of this stalemate with the Dragon Gang," he explained irritably. "I have been stuck with fighting them for two and a half years. I've made my progress; I've built my shrine, enlisted my members… but I am stuck. Half the heists we pull are interrupted by the Dragon gang, and we have to fight to keep our territory all the time." _

"_That's understandable though," Valdemar said quietly, hoping he wasn't stepping over the line. "The Dragon gang has been a covert part of X middle school for almost twenty years. They have a lineage, a tradition. It would take quite a while to whittle them down to size." _

_Neal sighed. "But that's the problem," he told the teacher. "I don't __**have **__time. I graduate in three and a half months." _

_Valdemar blinked. "I see," he said. "You can't run the Shard gang if you're going to another school. But, sir, why don't you just name a successor, like the Dragon Lord does? Every time the Dragon Lord graduates, he hands the rule down to one of his members. If you call Ragnarok, the whole gang has to go down, no exceptions." _

_Neal smiled at that. "True." He said. He looked straight at Valdemar. "I suppose the first reason is a matter of pride. I want to at least __**try**__ to take down the Dragon gang, by myself. I don't want my successor to have to do it—in truth, I didn't want a successor at all. I just wanted to destroy the school. But with so little time left here, it seems almost… pointless." _

_Neal sighed, then smiled again. "Besides, as far as Ragnarok goes, I've checked the rules. It is true that the gang has to go down after they lose." He paused, his smile growing wider. "But they define a gang as 'a group of people led under the banner of one person and one name.' While Shard has to disband if we lose, there's nothing in the rules that says it can't __**re-form,**__ say, next year—with someone else as the leader." _

"_You can do that?" Valdemar asked, bewildered. _

"_Yes." Neal said firmly. He looked at the teacher, his eyes serious. "Of course, that leads us to one problem. Who would be a worthy successor? Who would carry on the Shard tradition?" _

_Valdemar's mouth twisted a bit, wondering. "I thought you were going to appoint Jason as your successor." _

"_Jason is my second in command. He will stay that way. He handles things well and knows the finer points of running a gang, but he can't see the 'big picture'. I want someone with purpose, with a goal. A good one. A purpose like, for example… overthrowing the principal." _

_Valdemar's eyebrows clicked together, and he blinked. Hard. "Y-you don't mean…" _

_Neal nodded, extending his hand. "Mr. Martin Lyle Valdemar, would you like to become the next leader of the Shard Gang?" _

_[/Flashback]_

* * *

He had come so far. He was so close. Since that day one year ago, Valdemar's fantasy was coming closer and closer to a reality. The Shard gang was delivered to him as a tool to help realize his dream. He could take back what was stolen from him—the position of Principal was nearly in his grasp.

But now, things were turning dangerous. Valdemar hadn't expected Ryu to be so desperate as to admit the problem to a roomful of parents, teachers, and authorities who had no involvement in the gangs beforehand. The crowd would never believe his story, of course! …but still he found himself irritated.

Ryu always had a knack for throwing a wrench into his plans, and he worried if that wasn't what was happening now…

_No._ Valdemar thought sternly. _No, he won't ruin things. He can't. He's just a child—they all are. Whatever he says, I will counter. He cannot prove anything without evidence. He can try to ruin me, but he will fail. _

_And even if he has proof—even if the others believed him… _Valdemar's lips curled in a smug smile. Well. Getting rid of evidence was easy enough.

One trip to his office, and everything incriminating would vanish.

There was only one real way that Ryu could ruin his plans now, and that was to call Ragnarok now—and _win_. But the boy wouldn't do that. Or rather, _"couldn't". _Not with his comrades missing. Their manpower was cut in half, and fighting would be futile. Ryu would never win the fight, and he would be to afraid of what would happen if he lost. Valdemar had the dragon gang in Check; and mate.

A sudden movement caught his eye, and the teacher looked up into the crowd. One person was staring back at him; a girl with green eyes locked her gaze in his.

_Now that's curious. _Valdemar thought to himself. He recognized the girl, Ingrid Third. The rogue child, the safety patroller. The Knight. She was staring him down, a strange look in her eye. It took him a moment to place it, but finally he realized what she was thinking. _I see. So she knows too. _He thought, vaguely amused. She'd figured it out—yet it was too late for her to do anything about it. Like Ryu, she had no evidence; her suspicions were just suspicions. Someone else had finally seen the truth, and it was useless to them. It was quite funny, actually.

He nearly laughed as he turned his eyes back to the Dragon Lord, not noticing as Ingrid Third slipped away in the crowd. In the back of the room, Ryu was staring back as well, looking tense and angry and terrified at the same time. Valdemar only smiled back, not letting any concern grace his expression. _Fine, boy, _he thought smugly. _Let's see what you've got on me. Try to convince these people that I'm who you think I am. You will fail. No one will believe you. I will have what I desire. _

_And afterwards, I will call Ragnarok in private. My gang is stronger than yours—I am stronger than you. One way or another, you will fall. I will triumph. _

_And there's nothing you can do about it. _

* * *

**End Ch. 18**

**All right guys. I hope that was worth waiting a year for. ( *sighs* ) Next chapter we get into the climax, with Ingrid, Wayne, Frank, Fillmore and everybody in the center spotlight. I'm aiming to post it next week. **

**I'll need your help though. I'm determined to finish this, but as you all know, it's taking **_**forever. **_**So I've decided on a new experiment for this next update only. I'm setting a date for the next update: June 14, 2010. If I haven't updated by 9 pm that day, I need you all to drop in and hound me. Send me PMs—bug me: "Where's the next chapter?" "Are you ever going to update you lazy bones?" "Why haven't you UPDATED yet?" Bother me until I do! I figure, if I have a deadline, I'll be more efficient. Much like finishing school papers the night before they're due. **

**Just for this chapter only. We'll see how well it works out. Please don't be shy in harassing me, I think this story (and myself) needs a shove in the right direction. **

**Have a nice day! **


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